


The Family That Spies Together Stays Together

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, I put Teen and Up because I'm not sure what's going to be happening later. LOL!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: Yes I know way back I didSpies and Assassinswhich d'Artagnan's character was both, along with Milady. But I've had this idea in the back of my mind for awhile whereas the entire d'Artagnan family worked as spies, though not assassins. Unless they have to protect themselves for whatever reason, then that would be different.There's also an added bonus of something totally different added to the mix. You'll soon see and I hope this works out.Anyway I wanted to try it so let me know what you think...Also for those just new to this story, in case the picture of the Capuchin monkey at the bottom disappears, Photobucket has changed their policy and I can't use it for 3rd party hosting any longer unless I pay. If I understood them correctly all my uploaded pictures to Archive will go away. I do not have the time to re-scan and try to post them to a new site that is free. Ebm36 has told me of one but I'm not going to re-do them as everyone's already seen and commented on them. Just wanted to give you a heads up if you see any of my artwork or read this and Three Musketeers and a Bebe and the pictures are no more. LOL!See notes at bottom.++++





	1. Chapter 1

_Outside the Royal Palace_

"Who are we standin' waitin' around for this time?" After pulling parade duty two days straight in a row, in the sweltering heat, Porthos was not happy to be sweating bullets once more.

"All Treville told me was that they were special friends of His Majesty." From what Athos gleaned, King Louis' guests were very important to him.

"They should be arriving shortly, Porthos." Nudging his brother's shoulder with his own, Aramis was just as uncomfortable as his friends. Leathers were not meant for days such as this.

"Ah!" Spotting the carriage rounding the curve in the bend leading to the palace, he nodded smartly to his comrades. "Look lively. They are arriving now."

" _Lively_ the man says," Porthos grunted. "I was _lively_ an hour ago before we 'ad ta stand under this deuce sun again!"

It wouldn't do to get in an argument now, not when the carriage was nearly upon them. Waiting for it to come to halt, Athos threw Porthos a sharp look. Meaning that they would pick up this conversation at a later date. Stepping forward Athos opened the carriage door. Needless to say he was a tad curious as to whom these individuals were and what they meant to their young monarch.

A tall distinguished gentleman, of olive complexion, dark brown hair with a smattering of grey, was the first one out. Turning around the man helped a woman out next. She had an air of quality about her as did the gentleman traveling with her. But it was the youngster jumping out last that caught Athos' attention the most.

The youth had the same olive-toned skin as the older couple. Tall, as well as slim, into the bargain, he gave all the appearance of being full of vim and vigor. Making Athos feel his age and yet he was only all of thirty two years old.

It was obvious, as the nose on Athos' face, that this was a famille unit. The boy had the built of his père but resembled the lovely woman in looks. Having no memory of them visiting before, he was unaware of whom any of them were. Thing was the more Athos considered the gentleman something seemed familiar yet he couldn't put his finger on it. He was positive he had never met him before.

"What the deuce is that?"

Glowering at Porthos for his friend's outburst Athos followed his brother's gaze. Dumbfounded as to what he viewed leaping out of the carriage, Athos blinked his eyes several times thinking he was hallucinating. He even went so far as to rub his eyelids, feeling that perhaps he had a touch of the sun. But the apparition still was there sitting calmly on the youngster's shoulder.

"Tis a cute creature." Aramis remarked, a smile upon his lips. "A Capuchin monkey. I haven't seen one since I was a boy back home." He was admiring the coloring. It was white-headed with a darkish brown patch on top. It was also white halfway down its chest and arms then the rest of the monkey was dark brown as well as its back.

"Odd pet ta 'ave if'n ya ask me." Thinking he had seen everything, Porthos discovered there were still things left in this world that could surprise even him. "Can't see 'ow that kid can breathe with that long tail curled around 'is neck like that."

"Aramis," leaning in close, Athos whispered, "where did you see one before this?"

"When I was very young there was an old man in my village who was an organ grinder." It was a very pleasant memory for him. "He let me play with the monkey a lot."

"Play with it!" Porthos repeated it in such a way as to make his friend think it was a nutty thing to do in his opinion. He shuddered thinking about it.

While waiting for luggage to be removed from the carriage, Athos heard a cry from Porthos. Instantly on the alert he reached for his rapier. What he saw next though took him aback for a moment before amusement completely won over.

" _Zaru_ ," d'Artagnan hissed at his pet, "give that back!"

"Ain't funny, Mis." Laughing his silly fool head off, Aramis wasn't being helpful. One minute Porthos was innocently standing there and then the next that monkey had snatched his chapeau from Porthos' head. What made it even worse was that the animal had gone and put it on its own head. Then the monkey had the audacity to grin back at Porthos. Damn cheek, he thought!

Removing the chapeau from Zaru, it was a chagrined d'Artagnan that handed it back to the intimidating dark-skinned Musketeer. "My apologies for Zaru's behavior, Monsieur."

" _Zaru_?" Aramis questioned. "Interesting choice of name."

"Short for _Mizaru_ ," d'Artagnan replied, pleased when the Musketeer's eyes lit up with recognition. "You are familiar with the name then?"

"One of the three wise monkeys from Japanese folklore." Amazed that he even remembered that, Aramis was pleased his memory was still intact. Considering how many concussions he has had lately, it was a blessing.

"I too am familiar with that tale," Athos offered.

"I ain't." Still glaring at the pesky monkey, Porthos was not happy with the wild creature.

"You've no doubt heard the expression _see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil_?" When the larger Musketeer nodded, d'Artagnan continued on. "Mizaru is the monkey that covers his eyes, who sees no evil."

"This ain't the place for 'im then," Porthos snorted. A sharp kick to his shin from Aramis had Porthos swearing softly under his breath.

Scolding his pet, d'Artagnan sharply tapped Zaru on the head. "Bad! That was a very bad thing to do!" His pet chattered to him but it didn't soften d'Artagnan's attitude toward it. "What a first impression to make."

"It was a long trip," Athos pointed out. "Perhaps your pet is simply hungry."

"Non," d'Artagnan grinned. "Zaru loves doing things he's not supposed to do."

"May I be so bold as to ask how you acquired such an exotic animal?" Usually he wouldn't be curious about something like this but for some reason Athos was. After all it wasn't everyday one saw someone on the palace grounds with a monkey on their shoulder.

"Papa was given it as a gift from a grateful Argentinian that he had helped out during one of his many excursions." Noting the look of patience wearing thin on his papa's face, d'Artagnan was about to cut their conversation short before he got into trouble for tarrying too long. His maman was the one who spoke up instead.

"Speaking of excursions." Francoise walked over to her son. "We have been on the road for some time and I would like to see Louis before I collapse at his feet."

"My fault, maman." Wanting to help the footmen with the luggage, d'Artagnan went to retrieve the few pieces that were left on top of the carriage.

"Charles," Alexandre scowled at the lad, "you're not on the farm now. Leave the luggage to Louis' men."

Exchanging a roll of eyes with his maman, d'Artagnan did as his papa wished. About to follow his parents to the palace, he heard his named being called out. Turning around d'Artagnan's face was full of pure joy at the figure hurriedly walking towards him.

" _D'ARTAGNAN!_ " Going up to the young man Jean-Armand engulfed the boy in a strong embrace, mindful of not squishing Zaru in the process.

Holding tight to his godfather, d'Artagnan relished the greeting for he hadn't seen him in a long while.

"See how it is, Francoise," Alexandre casually commented out of the side of his mouth but loud enough for Jean-Armand to hear, "away for nearly a year and my best friend favors our son over myself." Her quiet snuff of laughter lifted his heart as it always had and always would.

"You know how Jean-Armand dotes on young Charles." She had to admit that anyone around their son for very long usually ended up wrapped around Charles' fingers. "Our captain of the Musketeers doesn't get to see him nearly as much as he'd like." A head bob from her handsome husband was all Francoise received. "I wonder if I pretended to swoon we'd find ourselves inside the palace faster and out of this dreadful heat." All Alexandre did was chuckle in her ear.

Releasing each other, man and boy took stock of changes a year has made.

"Tis great to see you haven't changed, Uncle Jean." It was then that Zaru chose to switch shoulders, going from d'Artagnan's to his godfather's. His pet was just as happy to see him.

"I think if you hadn't come when you did, d'Artagnan, I would have traveled back to Lupiac and kidnapped you myself." Petting Zaru's head fondly, Jean-Armand chuckled. "Tis good to see you as well, you wily rascal." Snapping his fingers, a look of dismay crossed his face. "I forgot to bring Zaru some fruit."

"Do not worry," d'Artagnan laughed. "Zaru just ate two bananas before our arrival." Noting his papa giving him the look, which always managed to make him feel like a petit, he pointed to his parents. "Ummmm, papa's gone all steely-eyed again. I think he's rather annoyed because you haven't talked with him and maman yet." Tapping his shoulder Zaru immediately jumped back onto d'Artagnan's.

Patting d'Artagnan on the back, Jean-Armand went to greet two of his oldest friends.

"So Captain Treville's your uncle?" The youngster and Treville appeared to be quite close. Athos knew the captain kept a lot of things close to his chest. This famille, along with Treville's relationship with them, appeared to be one of them.

"Honorary," d'Artagnan smiled. "He's my godfather actually. Ever since I was a child he treated me as part of his own family, always reminding me to consider him as an uncle. Tis mostly due to the fact that my papa and Uncle Jean are best friends."

"All the men know that Captain Treville hailed from Lupiac," Aramis threw in.

"Oui. His own famille was one of our closest neighbors." Observing the animated conversation going on between his parents and uncle, d'Artagnan was pleased that they were all back together.

"I remember the captain telling me he had a very good friend that served with him in the wars during the time of King Henry IV." So it was obvious to Athos whom that now was.

"By the time papa married maman, Uncle Jean had moved on to bigger and better things in Paris." His tone carried nothing but Gascon pride for his uncle's accomplishments.

"Uh, captin' called you d'Artagnan. Yeah?" Seemed to Porthos that the way Treville had said it made it sound like the whelp's first name."

"That's right." Snapping his fingers, Aramis gave the lad another curious look. "Yet he answered to Charles earlier."

Making a sweeping bow before all of them, with amusement evident in his eyes, he properly introduced himself. "Charles d'Artagnan from Lupiac in Gascony at your service." Noting the oldest Musketeer arch a brow at his announcement, he gave the man an cocky grin. "I like the sound of my last name, preferring it better."

" _D'ART!_ "

"Papa's calling." Looking at Zaru, d'Artagnan's fingers deftly made a pattern in the air. It was then that Zaru curled his long tail around d'Artagnan's neck again. "Been nice speaking with you gentlemen. I'm sure we'll meet up again soon." With a dip of his head he acknowledged each Musketeer before following his parents and godfather to the palace. "Aramis... Porthos... Athos, au revoir."

"Oy! 'Ow'd the kid know our names." Bewildered, Porthos met the equally confused faces of his two friends. "Captin' didn't introduce us to 'im."

"I would hazard a guess that young d'Artagnan knows more about us than I would prefer." Questions Athos wanted answers too would have to wait. "Come, mes freres, we are still on duty."

Catching up to the others, the inseparables took the steps leading inside the Louvre.

++++

_Royal Throne Room_

"Looks like everyone's 'appy over there." Yup. Their Majestys were treating the d'Artagnan's like long lost relations. Porthos hoped they'd eventually get the whole story from Captain Treville about them.

"His Majesty is particularly paying attention to the youngster d'Artagnan." Shoving his chapeau back from his forehead Aramis had to admit that the d'Artagnan's were a fine looking famille. With a sideways glance at Athos, he wondered what was behind the frown his brother now wore. "Something amiss?"

"The boy's père." Lips tightening Athos was mad at himself that he couldn't grasp the memory.

"What about 'im." Athos been acting peculiar since the d'Artagnan's got here. So Porthos too was concerned on what was troubling his friend.

"That's it!" Mumbling more to himself than his comrades, Athos missed the exchange of looks that passed between his brothers.

"You remembered something?" Trying to keep an eye on Their Majestys, and one on Athos, Aramis wished the man would share what he knew with them.

"D'Artagnan's père seemed so familiar to me and I finally understood why that was." Pleased that his memory didn't let him down, Athos offered his friends a quirk of his lips. "There is a portrait that hangs in King Louis' chambers." With his friend's interest piqued, he carried on. "Both of you have seen it. His Majesty had it commissioned when he was much younger judging by his age in the picture." Congratulating himself that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, Athos realized he still hadn't fully explained himself. "The elder d'Artagnan and Captain Treville are in the portrait along with young King Louis sandwiched in-between them. Surely you both remember it?" Getting a blank face from Porthos, Athis let out a disgusted sound.

"I usually don't pay much attention when in the king's chambers except to His Majesty, Athos." Porthos reminded himself to look at the portrait again later.

"Oui," Aramis nodded. "I know of the one you speak. Both men were younger in it as well. Louis looked about thirteen or fourteen in it," he mused. "They appeared quite jovial in it if memory serves."

"I find myself curious as to how the three of us have not managed to see them here at court before." Observing the Gascon famille's interactions with the king and queen, Athos now knew it was from a long standing relationship with each other.

"Perhaps they slipped in unannounced and left the same way," Porthos suggested.

"Like _spies_ ," Aramis quipped. Upon noting a sharply raised eyebrow directed his way, he shook his head at Athos. "I was making a jest."

"Jest or not," Athos said, "time will tell." The antics of Zaru appeared to highly amuse Their Majestys. It jumped from one shoulder to another. It gave Athos considerable pause because Zaru seemed quite at home with the young royals.

"There's a story with that monkey I bet." Nudging Athos in the side, Porthos pointed to an elegantly laid out buffet table. "Better watch the silverware around Zaru," he chuckled. "He may decide that chapeaus aren't nearly as much fun as forks and knives."

"Why do I get the feeling the silverware is the least of our worries?" Lord above knew Athos had his own secrets. All of them had, including Treville. But the older officer had taken him in, a broken young man, and put Athos into the king's service years ago. Having made the captain privvy to his darkest secret in turn Treville had told him some of his own. But the subject of the d'Artagnan's had never come up when they had spoken. Perhaps there was nothing secretive about the famille. Somehow Athos doubted it. Lost in his own thoughts it came to him that Porthos was speaking to him. "Apologies," Athos grimaced. "What was that again?"

"I said that the whelp looks in great shape." Catching Aramis' pursed lips, Porthos winked at Athos. "Easy on the eyes too. Bet 'e'll 'ave all the young women around 'ere chasin' afta 'im soon enough. If'n 'e stays long that is."

Knowing Porthos was egging Aramis on, Athos decided to join in. "Oui, I agree. The lad's in fine form." Out of the corner of his eye he noted Aramis scowling at them. "I'm beginning to feel my age just looking at the boy." Turning his head Athos glanced over at the marksman. "What say you, Aramis? Do I detect a slight flab about your middle?"

Huffing, Aramis rolled his eyes at them. "I'll have you both know that I have a perfect body," he snapped. "It's your vision that's defective!" When his brothers began quietly laughing, it was then Aramis gathered they had been pulling his leg. Admitting that he was rather vain when it came to his looks, Aramis blushed to the roots of his hair for being so taken in by his friends jesting. Before he could consider turning the tables on them, he caught Captain Treville staring over at them with an irritable look upon his face. "Methinks we best shut up."

Porthos and Athos also observed Captain Treville's not so pleased expression and decided to stand silently by the remainder of their watch.

 

++++

_Notes:_

I wasn't at work to copy Zaru in color. All my printer does at home is black and white but at least you see what d'Art's pet is.

 _How Capuchin monkeys got their name:_ Franciscans, who wear brown robes with large hoods. When explorers reached the Americas in the 15th century, they found small monkeys whose coloring resembled these friars, especially when in their robes with hoods down, and named them capuchins.

Also Capuchin monkeys were used to being seen with organ grinders. But those didn't come into existence until the late 18th century. Though for my story I am going to refer to them being in existence during the 17th century, per a remark made by Aramis in my first chapter.

I've given d'Art's monkey the name of Mizaru, from the three wise monkeys. (Japanese: 三猿 Hepburn: san'en or sanzaru, alternatively 三匹の猿 sanbiki no saru, literally "three monkeys"), sometimes called the three mystic apes, are a pictorial maxim. Together they embody the proverbial principle "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil". The three monkeys are *Mizaru*, covering his eyes, who sees no evil; Kikazaru, covering his ears, who hears no evil; and Iwazaru, covering his mouth, who speaks no evil. Outside Japan the monkeys' names are sometimes given as Mizaru, Mikazaru, and Mazaru, as the last two names were corrupted from the Japanese originals.

 _Quote: "I'll have you both know that I have a perfect body. It's your vision that's defective!"_ is from Aunty Acid.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I posted this on chapter one but will repeat it here for those who skip to this 2nd chapter and may not see it.  
> In case the picture of the Capuchin monkey on 1st chapter disappears, Photobucket has changed their policy and I can't use it for 3rd party hosting any longer unless I pay. If I understood them correctly all my uploaded pictures to Archive will go away. I do not have the time to re-scan and try to post them to a new site that is free. Ebm36 has kindly given me some suggestions but I'm not going to re-do them as everyone's already seen and commented on them. Just wanted to give you a heads up if you see any of my artwork read Three Musketeers and a Bebe and the pictures are no more. LOL!
> 
> ++++
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, mid afternoon - Royal Palace Council Chambers_

"Now that you're all settled in," glancing over his shoulder when the door opened to admit His Eminence, King Louis sarcastically added, "and my cardinal has now seen fit to join us we can begin."

"Apologies for my tardiness, everyone." Pulling a chair out, Richelieu placed himself beside the king.

"Better late than never I've always said." Chuckling quietly at the sour look on Richelieu's face, King Louis got back to the business on hand. "The work you have done for me and France thus far has been exemplary."

"Sometimes," Francoise smiled with a charming look at Alexandre, "it almost doesn't feel like work."

"I doubt Charles feels it is either," Alexandre drawled.

"The boy's not paying one whit of attention to us is he?" Eyes narrowing on the sight of the youngster playing with his pet monkey, Richelieu drummed long fingers impatiently upon the rectangular, mahogany table.

"Charles." Not getting a response from the lad, Louis tried a another tactic since the young Gascon enjoyed being hailed by a different moniker. "Oh, d'Artagnan." Noting nothing but amusement on the faces of the parents, he stood up and walked clear around the table to the boy's side. Tapping d'Artagnan on the shoulder Louis was rewarded when a pair of startled brown eyes blinked up at him. "Perhaps you would be good enough to pull yourself away from Zaru's company to pay attention to our discussion."

Blushing profusely, d'Artagnan realized all eyes were definitely on him. Zaru of course could have cared less as the monkey was on top of the table continuously going round in a circle chasing its tail, chattering non-stop.

What he had to put up with at times, Richelieu thought because Zaru's constant chatter was beginning to grate on what nerves he had left. "Would you stop Zaru's antics, d'Artagnan, so all of us can concentrate on today's agenda?" Wondering if anyone would miss the monkey if Richelieu decided to spirit it away, he thought better of that idea. Besides they would all know who was behind it and then there would be hell to pay. He'd have to be craftier in his approach and think upon something more fitting later, if this kept up.

"Apologies, Sire... Cardinal." Holding up his hand, d'Artagnan made a fist and then slowly opened it up again. Instantly Zaru ceased chasing its tail, and the chattering came to a full stop.

Re-seating himself Louis couldn't help the mirth bubbling up inside him. "Perhaps I should acquire a Capuchin for myself."

"Mon Dieu!" Rubbing at his forehead a deep frown marred Richelieu's face. "Tis not one of your better ideas, Your Majesty."

"You have to admit, Cardinal, a monkey would be an ideal addition around here." Tapping his chin, King Louis' eyes crinkled up in the corners when something he just thought of tickled him no end. "It would be one way to keep Lady Solange and her three daughters out of the palace."

Forgetting the headache he was trying to fight off, Richelieu's head snapped up at the king's witty remark. "Only in that case would I sanction having a monkey around here." Thinking upon Lady Solange, he shuddered. That stout woman had more than her share of opinions on matters that shouldn't concern her. Her daughters were not much better either.

"Getting off topic a bit are we not, Louis?" Though Alexandre was more than curious as to whom Lady Solange was and why Louis wanted to frighten her away with a monkey of all things.

"Oui." Gathering some papers together, Louis sorted through them until he came to the ones he wanted. "Ah! Here they are." Holding them up he placed them down in front of Alexandre and Francoise.

Picking them up Alexandre perused through them then passed the papers over to his wife. " _Delaflote_?"

"Comte Yvain Delaflote, eh?" She had heard of him, even in their quaint farming community back in Lupiac.

"What has he done," Alexandre asked, "or better yet what is he about to do?"

"Exactly the latter that worries us, Alexandre." Briefly glancing at His Eminence, King Louis noted him lifting a hand in the air for recognition. "Cardinal, if you will?"

"Delaflote holds considerable weight among his peers." Leaning back against his chair Richelieu's gaze rested upon the older couple. "But there have been rumors of late that the Comte may not be the friend to France as he wants everyone to believe."

'I have it through a reliable source..." Pausing when Francoise spoke up, Louis waited to hear what she had to say.

"Whom you won't name of course." She smiled pleasantly at everyone, not caring that she had just interrupted the king. After all Louis was used to their ways.

"Quite so, Francoise," Louis grinned wickedly. "You know how we play the game?"

"Indeed we do, Louis." Giving the young monarch a fond look, she waved her hand for him to carry on.

"My source confirmed Delaflote recently met with Ramon Catalina." Once more Louis paused. This time it was for Alexandre.

"Spain's latest ambassador." Tilting his head to the side, Alexandre thought upon the ramifications this could mean for France. "Doesn't Delaflote have an estate in Alsace?"

"Correct," answered Richelieu sharply.

"Did this source also discover what it was that the two men had discussed?" d'Artagnan asked while stroking his hand up and down Zaru's tail. At least none of them could say he wasn't paying attention this time.

"Non, but an interesting fact came up when the ambassador left the Comte's home. She observed Catalina sifting through a sheaf of papers that he appeared to be very pleased over." Remembering what the cardinal's spy had told them, Louis was more than positive Delaflote was sharing France's sensitive secrets with Spain. Possibly their military plans as well if war with the other country became inevitable. He didn't trust Philip in the slightest, even though the man was Anne's brother.

"Tis nice to know that there are other women in the spy game serving the monarchy other than myself." Watching Charles' shoulders shaking with laughter, Francoise shared his amusement.

"We need more of your kind to go around, Francoise," Louis suggested. "Women have a knack for getting to the root of a problem without dithering about." Replacing the papers he had given the couple back into a sleeve he then sealed it. "As you know the Comte is on my high council. I cannot act against him without solid proof that he's a traitor to the crown."

While listening to the king's words, d'Artagnan waited for Zaru to finish eating seeds from his hand. "Then tis time to put Zaru's talents to work. Wouldn't you say, papa... maman?"

"Mmmmmm," Francoise hummed. Sharing a knowing look with her husband. "You mean _your_ talents as well, Charles." Depending on the company they kept, d'Artagnan could be modest to a fault. But when the boy was around friends his own age he sometimes acted like a cocky so and so.

Feeling light fingers tangling with the hair on the back of his head, d'Artagnan leaned into his maman's touch.

"When do we depart for Alsace?" Not particularly relishing the journey to Delaflote's estate after traveling over two weeks to reach Paris, Alexandre figured they best start at first light.

"Tis the beauty of this, mes amis," Louis chortled in childish delight. "Comte Delaflote has another chateau situated not too far from the city."

"How do we play this then?" Shifting his gaze from the king to his parents then onto Cardinal Richelieu, d'Artagnan waited to hear who would come up with the better plan... any or none at all.

"I will arrange your carriage to have a slight mishap while on your supposed journey back to Gascony." Thinking it a brilliant idea on his part King Louis noted the deep scowl presently forming on Richelieu's face. "Do you think it will not suffice, Cardinal?"

"I'm sure Delaflote would simply procure another carriage to take them home," Richelieu pointed out. "He may even lend them one of his own." Gaze lingering on the lone woman present, Richelieu was struck by an idea. "Could we not have our lovely Francoise pretend to have suffered an injury from the accident?"

"Excellent!" King Louis exclaimed. "I'm surprised I didn't come up with it." Ignoring the cardinal's inelegant snort, he was still happy with the plan they were devising.

"It sounds like it could work," Alexandre agreed. "Play on the Comte's sympathies for the fairer sex."

"See what a woman has to put up with, Charles." Rolling her eyes Francoise enjoyed the easy grin that crossed her son's features.

"In doing this you believe the Delaflote would put us up until maman's well enough to travel on?" Directing the question to Cardinal Richelieu, d'Artagnan rotated his finger in the air signaling for Zaru to stop touching the cardinal's red cape. For some reason his pet found the color fascinating.

"Tis been my past experience that the man's fondness for the opposite sex has been the bane of Delaflote's existence thus far." A cunning look came and went quickly in Richelieu's eyes.

"Don't tell me I'm going to have to fight for my wife's honor on top of trying to spy on this possible traitor?" Displeased at the cardinal's words, Alexandre was of two minds what to do about this assignment.

"Papa," d'Artagnan carefully interrupted, "it may not come to that." Tapping Zaru's nose twice in succession, then shaking a finger at the monkey's bad behavior, he winked at his papa. "I could have Zaru cause enough problems for the Comte that he won't know which end's up."

"That I would love to see, d'Artagnan." Shame he couldn't be there in person, but Louis knew he would learn all the juicy details after all was said and done.

"Delaflote's face when catching his first sight of Zaru would be something worthwhile to see," Richelieu mused.

"I've just thought of something that none of you had brought up yet." Frowning d'Artagnan gave his maman a worried look. "What if the Comte sends for a physician to examine her and then Delaflote discovers she lied to him?" Now that he voiced his thoughts out loud he became all the more concerned that things could go wrong for them.

"We'll have my personal physician Antoine standing by not too far from the chateau." Wanting to put the family at ease, Louis didn't need to dwell on it too long when he came up with this backup plan. "He'll have several of my Musketeers guarding him. When the time comes we'll have my men intercept whomever Delaflote sends out to fetch a doctor." Noting Francoise' forehead crease in concern, Louis added, "Do not worry yourself for Antoine will know how to act when the time comes."

"While I'm laid up," Francoise glanced at Charles with all her love for the boy reflected in her gaze, "I suppose d'Artagnan and Zaru are going to be skulking about the estate trying to discover where Delaflote's loyalties lie?"

"Close enough." Agreeing with her Louis looked over at Alexandre's pensive expression. "I'm sure Alexandre's not going to let any grass grow under his feet either and will be doing some _skulking_ of his own."

"You mentioned your _source_ was quite reliable," Francoise questioned.

"She may make contact with you while you're all there," Richelieu offered. "She goes by the name of _Milady_. Having established herself as the Comte's latest mistress her insights have been invaluable to us."

"One other thing." Not having discussed such trivial matters with his old fox, Louis was positive the inseparables could be spared for this mission. "Alexandre, because of your importance in the community of Lupiac," he grinned when noting his good friend's resigned look, "several attempts have already been made on your life and that of your family."

"Really?" This made Francoise sit up and take notice of the lies Louis kept piling on. "I didn't know that." Tapping d'Artagnan on the arm, she tilted her head to the side. "Did you know that?"

"I'll have to pay better attention next time we're back home," d'Artagnan managed to say with somewhat of a straight face.

"Therefore... what, Louis?" Pinching the bridge of his nose he caught Francoise trying not to laugh back at him. His son didn't even bother hiding his own amusement. Alexandre wouldn't be surprised if Zaru was secretly laughing at all of them too. Louis being Louis always had to go that extra step further.

"My best soldiers will be disguised as your bodyguards." Clapping his hands together, Louis ignored Alexandre's cross look.

"Too many cooks spoil the broth," Alexandre sarcastically remarked. "Or haven't you heard that one before, Louis?"

"I thought it was _soup._ " Enjoying the scowl darkening Alexandre's face, Louis exchanged amused looks with d'Artagnan and Francoise.

"Semantics," Alexandre grumbled.

"If anything they could end up saving your lives if needs must," Richelieu backed the young king on this one.

"If the men are Athos, Porthos and Aramis," d'Artagnan was eager to be in their company again, "then they are the greatest of the king' regiment."

"D'Artagnan has the right of it." Pleased that the lad, at least, wasn't adding to the grief Alexandre was trying to give him. "Oh and, d'Artagnan, do call me Louis."

"Ummmm, I was always taught to respect my elders." Giving the king a cheeky grin d'Artagnan was surprised that everyone found his wiseass comment funny, even His Majesty.

"How many years separate us?" Staring at the boy Louis chuckled when d'Artagnan ducked his head shyly away from him.

"Eight," d'Artagnan mumbled.

"You're only seventeen to my twenty four," Louis grinned. "Not such a huge gap as to put me in my dotage yet."

"The lad has good manners, Sire," Richelieu complimented. "He's been taught to address you as you deserve. But I do agree that since you're more like family to him that perhaps around yourself and the queen he would do well to address you as you wish."

Waving his hand in the air, Louis capitulated. "Very well. But since it is just us right now, d'Artagnan," he tapped a finger on the table, "address me as Louis." Pursing his lips, he contemplated the cardinal. "How old do you deem the lad has to be to address me familiarly when in mixed company?" Noting Richelieu had no answer to that, Louis shook his head. "Hmmmph!"

"Could we get back to the subject of our bodyguards?" Alexandre reminded everyone with a raised brow. "Deuce, Louis! Why didn't you say it would be the inseparables in the first place?" he huffed to which all of them, including Richelieu, began to laugh. Even Zaru started chattering away, joining in.

++++

_Musketeer Canteen_

Having finished training the men for the day, the inseparables decided upon eating dinner at the canteen instead of going to their usual haunt The Wren.

But perhaps it had been a bad decision on their part to try Serge's culinary skills today. For it appeared the old cook was having a very bad time of it.

When their meals eventually appeared, Athos gazed down upon his steak with something akin to distaste. "Could you not see it was a tad overdone?" His fork actually bounced off of the thick piece of meat, the steak was that tough.

"Yeah." Picking up his under-cooked, nearly raw, steak with a fork Porthos shook it in the old geezer's face. "Mine's ready ta jump off the plate and 'ead out the door."

"Aramis." Looking down at the handsome, younger Musketeer Serge asked, "What's your gripe?"

"Me?" Lightly chuckling, Aramis nodded toward his bowl. "Everything's fine and dandy if you like your stew to look and taste like piss." Showing what he meant, Aramis held up his spoon where the stew literally dripped off of it in a thin yellowish mess.

"Boys," Serge snorted, "I always offer two dinner choices." Holding up a finger he said, "One - _take it_ or two -" he held up another finger, " _leave it_!" Abruptly turning from them, Serge stormed back to his kitchen. Maybe his cat would appreciate today's fare.

"Guess Porthos could do with a skipped meal or two." Knowing teasing his great big friend oftentimes resulted in Aramis losing a goodly amount of coin to Porthos at a game of cards. Still he just couldn't resist, because his brother was so easy to set off. Where would be the fun of it, if Aramis passed on an opportunity that fell into his lap like a ripe peach or woman for that matter?

"I'm not fat!" Sending the marksman a dark look Porthos ran hands down his own chest, puffing it out. "I'm just easy ta see!"

Getting to his feet Athos looked sadly upon what should have been an enjoyable dinner. Slapping his chapeau back onto his head he held the door open for his friends. "Perhaps The Wren's cook Cornett is in a more agreeable mood with his stove."

"Can't 'urt none." Shoving Aramis out the door before him, Porthos snickered. "Ya ain't got a hope in 'ell of beatin' me tanight, bucko."

Noting Athos' blue eyes twinkling, Aramis threw his arms around both men's shoulders. "What else is new, eh?"

 

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "I always offer two dinner choices. One - take it or two - leave it!"_ is from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I'm not fat! I'm just easy to see!"_ is also from Aunty Acid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning here. Zaru is disciplined a little. Just saying as I don’t want anyone to think d’Art is mistreating his pet. He does explain himself though.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, late afternoon_

Coming out of The Wren, the inseparables walked along the cobblestone streets. They were pleasantly full from the good food and wine they had partaken of. The unpleasantness of the canteen had been long forgotten. About to split off, going their separate ways, their names were called out from a distance making the inseparables stop to see who hailed them and why.

"I was beginning to despair." Rene's breathing was heavy, as he had run from one tavern to another in search of them. "Thought I'd have to seek you three out in all the taverns in Paris," he grinned. "Fortunately I spotted you just now strolling along."

"We just left The Wren," Aramis offered, with a pleasant smile at the younger Musketeer.

Rolling his eyes, Rene could have kicked himself. "I should have just started there first." Feeling Porthos pat his back, he craned his neck to stare up into the amused dark eyes. "Next time I'll know better."

"What is so urgent that had you searching for us?" One brow arched higher than the other, while Athos' steady gaze rested on Rene.

"Captain Treville needs to see all of you right away." Catching triple grimaces covering their faces, Rene could sympathize with the feeling.

"Tanite for once all I wanted ta do was make time with my pillow." Porthos' deep voice rumbled. "Been a long day." Throwing a dark look at Aramis and Athos he added. "Plus back ta back parade duties didn't 'elp matters none."

“We’ve all been there, Porthos,” Rene said. “At least you didn’t have the honor,” he pulled a face, “of escorting Madame Solange and her daughters around while they stayed at the palace last.” Noting all three Musketeers pretended to shudder in response, Rene laughed heartily.

“No sense dithering. Tis a life of a soldier to answer when called to duty.” Athos' look encompassed them all. "Let us see what Treville wants.”

“I have a few things to procure for the Garrison so I will see all of you later.” Waving at them, Rene smiled. “Au revoir, mes freres.”

“Somethin’ tells me we’re gonna be mixed up in whatever the d’Artagnans are ‘ere for.” The amused smile that passed quickly on Aramis' face made Porthos wonder at it.

“I feel the same,” Athos readily agreed, also catching the younger man’s expression. “What say you to that, Aramis?”

“Moi?” Chuckling, Aramis strolled ahead of the other two men. Glancing over his shoulder he winked. “I’m looking forward to seeing Zaru again.”

++++

_Captain Treville’s office_

Arriving, Athos knocked upon the door then walked inside the office, his two brothers directly behind him. First thing he noted was the Gascon boy perched on Treville’s desk studying a chess board. Sitting upon the lad’s shoulder was d’Artagnan’s pet Zaru.

“Ah!” Waving his soldiers further into the room, Treville still kept his gaze locked on the Capuchin.

“It appears as if we’re interrupting your game.” Standing near the youngster Aramis could see the boy was pondering his next move.

“I’m not quite sure whom I’m playing with,” Treville ruefully admitted, somewhat amused upon hearing d’Artagnan’s youthful laughter follow his comment.

“Would you have us believe that Zaru plays chess?” Incredulous, Athos couldn’t keep his disbelief at bay.

“Among other things." D’Artagnan lightly smacked Zaru's hand. Snapping his fingers at his pet the Capuchin squealed its displeasure, throwing the rook it held in its tail on the floor. “I think someone needs some rest.” Grabbing his monkey literally by the tail d’Artagnan dangled Zaru in the air. “You’re being very rude.” Embarrassed that the inseparables had to witness Zaru’s display of temper, d’Artagnan tried hard not to look any of them in the eye.

"Isn't that rather harsh?" Observing Zaru hanging upside down, Aramis at first wanted to intervene on the Capuchin's behalf but held himself back.

Both d'Artagnan and his godfather appeared ready to burst out laughing at the question.

"Non, Aramis." Swinging Zaru up onto his arm d'Artagnan fed him a piece of fruit.

"Capuchin's, as with a variety of other monkeys dangle from trees by anchoring themselves to branches with their strong tails." Tugging on his own pet's long tail, d'Artagnan was rewarded with happy chatter. "Picking him up by his tail when Zaru's been rather naughty has almost become a game with him.

"Satisfied," Athos drawled, arching a brow.

Unexpectedly Zaru then jumped from d'Artagnan's arm up into the air. Hanging off a rafter right above Aramis' head, Zaru's tail whipped off the marksman's chapeau.

"Merde!" Unsuccessfully making a grab for it, Aramis met with nothing but air. With Porthos' loud bark of laughter ringing in his ears he turned, swatting a hand at his large friend.

"Zaru likes _chapeaus_ remember, Mis?" Still laughing, Porthos shook his head. "Glad this time it wasn't mine again."

It didn't help that everyone else found the situation just as amusing. Even Athos' lips were twitching.

"Tis not funny," Aramis snapped while watching Zaru dangle from the rafters with his chapeau now resting on the monkey's head. "Could you please get it back from your pet, d'Artagnan?"

"Zaru does love his tricks." Gesturing to the lad to follow through with Aramis' request, Treville fingered a chess piece in his hand.

Thumping his fist hard on top of the desk d'Artagnan then held out his arm. Without hesitation Zaru landed on his extended limb, chapeau still firmly on its head. Snatching it from his pet, before the monkey could damage it, d'Artagnan handed it back over to its owner. "My apologies."

Eyeing his head wear dubiously, Aramis held it slightly away from his person. "Does Zaru bathe often?"

"Par Dieu!" A frown pulling at his lips, Athos took the chapeau from his friend and slapped it on Aramis' wavy, dark hair.

"Still feelin' sorry for Zaru now, Mis?" Chuckling Porthos was on the receiving end of a solid punch to his shoulder. Grunting, he shook the slight pain off. "Guess that answers my question don't it?" he smirked. Looking d'Artagnan's way, Porthos winked at the whelp. "Kid," placing a large hand on the youngster's shoulder he asked, "'Ow's your monkey at cards?"

"Porthos." The way Athos drew out his friend's name, it was obvious he thought his brother's remark in poor taste. Upon registering the fact that Treville appeared highly amused, Athos let it go.

"Actually, Porthos," grinning impishly at the giant, d'Artagnan tilted his head toward his pet, "I've been told Zaru cheats better at cards than you do."

A hearty slap on Porthos' back, coming from Aramis, put a sour look on his swarthy face while shoving the marksman away.

"Your reputation precedes you, Porthos." Placing the queen back onto the chess board, Treville thought it was high time to give his men their orders. After all that's what he called them in for. "Gents, I wanted to tell you to be ready tomorrow morn as all of you will be playing the part of the d'Artagnan's bodyguards."

"Meaning regular clothes and not our uniforms?" Folding his arms, Athos listened intently.

"Along with your usual weapons of course," Treville further added. "Now this is what's going to happen..."

++++

Leaving Treville's office the inseparables talked amongst themselves of the plan the captain had unfolded for them.

"This could go sideways in many directions," Athos mused.

"It isn't like that 'asn't 'appened ta us before." Thinking of past missions that didn't go according to plan, Porthos' eyes locked with Aramis'.

"So," Aramis grinned, "piece of cake then."

"There's no such thing." Knowing he'd get grief from them for saying that, Athos stood his ground.

"Pessimists never do look on the bright side of things, eh, Athos." Sharing an amused smirk with Porthos, Aramis watched the older man's lips tighten.

"We roll with the punches. Yeah?" So used to things going half-assed, Porthos could deal with nearly anything that came his way. So could his friends, when it came down to it.

"Protecting the d'Artagnan family, dealing with a monkey, Delaflote, a mysterious woman who is also a spy for our side," running a hand down the side of his face, Athos' expression wasn't a welcome one, "there are too many variables and unknowns. Ah Bien," he shrugged casually, "what could go wrong?"

"'E's gettin' on 'is high horse agin'." Nudging Aramis in the ribs until he got the marksman's attention, Porthos stopped.

"You could end up pleasantly surprised for once, Athos." Tipping his chapeau at a jaunty angle, Aramis waited for a lofty comeback.

"I'll have you both know," Athos waved a finger in front of their faces, "I'm not always right, but I'm never, ever, wrong."

Clapping his hands together in delight, Aramis removed his chapeau and bowed.

"Look, Mis." Pointing to their eldest brother, Porthos teased him. "'Is lips are turnin' up in the corners."

"If I'm smiling," Athos' blue eyes narrowed on them, "that alone should scare you."

"Duly warned, mon frere." Stretching his arms in the air, Aramis let out a huge yawn. "I'm for an early night, mes amis."

"Since when?" That was a first Porthos thought. Usually Aramis stayed up quite late, on the pretense of teaching some lovely thing theology or some such rot.

"Since tomorrow may prove very interesting and I don't want to miss a minute of it." Noting an odd expression pass Athos' features, he became curious. "What now?"

"I do hope that Comte Delaflote has a supply of fruit on hand for Zaru." Walking past his friends Athos heard their words nevertheless.

"Was that a jest?" A question in his eyes he gazed at Porthos, the latter shrugging, so Aramis decided that if Delaflote's kitchen had a shortage of fruit there was no need to worry as long as the Comte had plenty of chapeaus readily available.

++++

_Next morning – outside the Royal Palace_

Having helped Francoise into their carriage, Alexandre waited for his son to join them. But from where he stood it appeared d’Artagnan was preoccupied with whatever was going on between the inseparables and several Red Guards. It also would seem that it involved their luggage as well. He’d better go check and see what was going on or they’d never be on their way.

“Alexandre,” reaching out a slender hand Francoise tapped her husband on the arm, “what’s the delay? And it better not be because Zaru’s being difficult again.”

Lips pursed, head tilted to the side, Alexandre snorted. “From what I can see tis some Red Guards that are proving _difficult_.” Watching his wife poke her pretty head out the carriage window, he smiled at her. “I was just about to go over there to see what the trouble is.”

“Do try not to shoot anyone, mon amour.” She hid her muffled laughter behind a gloved hand.

“I’ll try to restrain myself, mon ange,” Alexandre retorted dryly. Leaning over he dropped a light kiss upon Francoise’ forehead.

++++

When he got close enough to the group, Alexandre decided to listen first to what was going on before jumping into something that may turn out to be none of his business. A witty remark from Aramis to one of the Red Guards brought about a smirk to his face. Having been a Musketeer he knew the trials and tribulations that came with the job.

“I’m not saying you’re stupid,” Aramis tisked. Staring down upon the ground at the contents that had spilled out of the luggage that the Red Guard had managed to drop, he frowned at the mess. “I’m just saying you’ve got bad luck when it comes to thinking.” However the guard thought he could manage all four heavy pieces by himself, Aramis couldn’t fathom.

“Aramis,” placing a hand on the younger man’s arm Athos gave it a gentle pat, “it was an unfortunate accident.”

“But one easily rectified if Ballesdens would kindly pick everything up.” Standing with a mulish expression on his face, Aramis waited for the Red Guard to correct his error in judgment.

“Wasn’t my fault,” Ballesdens angrily spat. “Jerking his head toward his fellow comrade Plamondon. “I didn’t know they’d be that heavy,” he whined, causing Porthos to snicker off to the side of him. “Plamondon told me I could easily carry all four of them with no trouble.”

“Turned it into a bet of sorts did ya?” questioned Porthos in the face of Ballesden’s ire. When no answer to that was forthcoming, his eyes shifted to Athos. The latter trying very hard not to show how amused he was over the incident.

“Like I previously mentioned,” rolling his eyes Aramis air quoted, “ _you… didn’t… think._ ”

Going to stand beside his son, Alexandre bumped shoulders with the boy. “Did that guard figure he was Hercules?”

With Zaru happily perched on top of his head, d'Artagnan turned to stare at his papa. Shrugging he replied, "Tis like Aramis already said." His face split into a huge grin. "The guard simply didn't think."

Observing the two Red Guard's shoving articles of clothing back into their luggage, Alexandre was at a loss on how to respond to Aramis surprising comment to him when the Musketeer brushed past.

"Your wife has excellent taste in undergarments by the way." Whistling while he headed for Belle, Aramis didn't bother to see how the elder d'Artagnan reacted to his observation.

Bemused by what the marksman just told him, Alexandre was at a loss for words.

"Aramis is right, papa." Eyes lighting up with mischief, d'Artagnan played with Zaru's tail that curled about his neck. "From what I can see maman does have good taste when it comes to that type of clothing." Earning a light cuff to the back of his head d'Artagnan pouted.

"I don't even want to find out how you know of women's undergarments," Alexandre muttered.

"I'm all of seventeen," d'Artagnan reminded him of that important fact. "In case you have forgotten." While talking to his papa, Zaru chose that moment to jump from d'Artagnan's head to land neatly by one of the Red Guard's feet. Too late to stop his pet, he observed Zaru pick up an article of clothing and throw it into a piece of luggage.

"What the hell!" Batting the monkey away with his hand, Ballesdens snarled at the boy. "That thing better not try to bite me!"

"If'n it did," Porthos yelled, "you'd leave Zaru with a bad taste in its mouth."

Agitated his pet began jumping up and down, screeching at the top of its lungs. "Come here, Zaru." Waiting for the monkey to leap into his arms, d'Artagnan eyed the Red Guard with something close to dislike in his eyes. "Zaru only attacks if provoked." Letting the Capuchin climb back on top of his head, Zaru barely had time to settle there when d'Artagnan's papa plucked him off.

"We'll pick up our conversation later, Charles. I believe Zaru's caused enough trouble." Cradling the monkey like a bebé, Alexandre walked back to their carriage. Encountering Athos on his way, Alexandre stopped upon seeing the leader of the inseparables wanted to speak with him.

"I want to make apologies for Aramis," Athos winced. "At times his tongue runs away with him."

"I appreciate the warning," Alexandre grinned. "But being only a simple farmer from Gascony, Athos, who am I to argue with one such as Aramis who has more experience in that department than myself." With a quick wink at the Musketeer, he left the startled man behind. Upon entering the carriage Alexandre deposited Zaru into his wife's arms.

Glancing at the Capuchin, who nestled quietly against her breast, Francoise lifted puzzled eyes to stare into the dark orbs of her husband. "Dare I ask what the problem was this time?"

"Which do you want first?" Quirking a brow upward, Alexandre leaned his head back against the carriage. "Our luggage the the Red Guard dropped... your undergarments on display for the world to see..." his lips twisted, "or that our son apparently thinks you have excellent taste in that type of clothing?"

Chuckling softly, Francoise slowly stroked Zaru's tail. She was beginning to see what the problem really was now and it wasn't with the clumsy Red Guard. "We can't keep him to ourselves indefinitely you know."

He could see past the window his son with the inseparables as the Musketeers mounted their horses. Glancing back at Francoise' serene expression, Alexandre sighed. "I would if I could, ma chere."

Reaching out she took her husband's hand, squeezing gently. "It happens to all parents sooner or later, mon coeur."

"Doesn't make it any easier." Sticking his head out the window, Alexandre hollered, "Charles get a move on, lad!"

++++

"Guess I better join them." Hating to part from the trio of Musketeers, d'Artagnan dipped his head then turned and ran back to the carriage.

"I think the whelp likes us." Situated between both of his brothers, Porthos tugged on Roulette's reins.

"Mmmmm," Aramis hummed. "What's not to like."

"Before Aramis gets an even bigger head," Athos drawled, "let us be on our way."

Laughing gayly, Aramis' jovial mood continued. "Never fear the great Inseparables are here!"

"Mon Dieu!" Grumbling, Athos pulled on Roger's reins and rode past the happy marksman.

"'Ave ya  been nippin' on somethin' before ya left your apartments?"

"Non, Porthos," Aramis shook his head, his dark curls bouncing with the movement. "Just happy to be on an assignment that for once doesn't take us too far away from home."

"Uh huh." Grunting his disbelief, Porthos too left his friend behind to catch up with Athos.

"Was it something I said?" All Aramis was treated too was his friend's departing backside. "Ah bien," he chuckled. "It does take a unique mind to appreciate me after all." Kneeing Belle in the sides, Aramis figured he better join his comrades before Athos came back breathing fire at him.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "I'll have you both know I'm not always right, but I'm never, ever, wrong."_ is from Aunty Acid. (It sounded just like something Athos would say)

 _Quote: "I'm smiling, that alone should scare you."_ Again from Aunty Acid. (Also another line I thought fit Athos).

 _Quote: “I’m not saying you’re stupid, I’m just saying you’ve got bad luck when it comes to thinking.”_ (Yeah, you guessed it. Another Aunty Acid line.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A side note here: Athos and Milady have a different past than the one we’re most familiar with. Nearly the same but with a slight bent to it. Just saying.
> 
> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same morning – after their departure from the Royal Palace_

En route to Comte Delaflote’s chateau, the inseparables rode either side of the carriage with Aramis taking up the rear.

Athos, being closest to the elder d’Artagnan’s side, decided to have a chat with the man on a subject he had been most curious on ever since the famille’s arrival. “May I ask you a question, Monsieur d’Artagnan?”

“Do call me Alexandre until we get to our destination, Athos.”

Silently understanding that when the time came he and his brothers couldn’t act so familiarly as they were the hired help, Athos nodded. ‘How old was your son when you and your wife decided to let him join in your… ummmm, shall we say for want of a better word _activities? _”__

____

Lips turning upward, Alexandre winked at Francoise. ‘I suppose you thought we exposed Charles to this life when he was only a petit, eh?”

____

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Athos inclined his head forward to peer better at Alexandre’s face. “It had crossed my mind.”

____

“I’m right here you know!” an irritated d’Artagnan voiced. Sticking his head out the window, he stared up at the older Musketeer. “I’m perfectly capable of answering your question myself.”

____

Oh the lad was truly annoyed with him. Dipping his head Athos acknowledged that d’Artagnan was perfectly within his rights to be cross with him. “My sincere apologies for the oversight.”

____

“Are you making fun of me?” D’Artagnan wouldn’t have been surprised if Athos had been. Having not gained the true measure of the man yet, nor his companions, he only knew what his godfather had told him about the inseparables. So d’Artagnan would hold his own council upon such matters for a later time. “In answer to your question I wanted too terribly but all they’d,” d’Artagnan pointed to his parents, “let me do sometimes was sit, look sweet and innocent, and listen into conversations that other adults around me figured I was too young to comprehend.”

____

“Ah!” With just that single word Athos managed to convey that he indeed did see how the petit Gascon, d’Artagnan had been, would have chafed at being relegated to doing something that the pup thought was too safe. “Were you any good at it?”

____

A devilish light entered d’Artagnan’s eyes. “Put me to the test sometime and I’ll show you how good I was, Athos.”

____

Clearing his throat Athos wasn’t prepared for the young upstart’s response. “You are not exactly a petit any longer.”

____

“Non, I’m not.” Zaru jumped out of his maman’s arms just then to perch on d’Artagnan’s left shoulder. “But I’ve been told in some quarters that I still look _sweet and innocent_.”

____

Loud snickers could be heard coming from both Porthos and Aramis. They had obviously been able to hear Athos’ conversation with the boy.

____

“From where I’m sitting,” lips twitching Athos tilted his head to the side, studying the lad, “you give more the appearance of an impetuous imp. Prone more to devilment than angelic pursuits.”

____

A bark of laughter burst forth from Alexandre. There was no way he could have held back upon hearing the Musketeer’s dead on remark about his son.

____

“Mon Dieu!” Clapping both hands over her mouth, Francoise startled even herself by her response. Noting Athos and Charles were staring at her strangely, not so her husband of course, Francoise told the Musketeer, “You’ve barely been in Charle’s company yet have pegged his personality down to a 'T'.”

____

“Maman!” With a hurt look on his youthful features, d’Artagnan crossed his arms, lent back against the carriage and pouted. Then it seemed everyone around him, including Zaru, began laughing. In his Capuchin’s case, the monkey simply squealed.

____

++++

____

_Over an hour and a half into their journey_

____

“Hey, Athos!” Maneuvering Roulette over to Athos’ side, Porthos’ thigh brushed against the other man. “Time ta put the plan in motion. Yeah?”

____

Lifting their heads they stared into the distance noting Delaflote’s estate slowly coming into view.

____

“Right you are, mon frere.” Twisting in his saddle Athos motioned for Aramis to halt. Signaling Abney, their coachman, to pull the carriage off to the side of the road Athos and the others then dismounted.

____

Holding open the carriage door, Aramis extended a hand out for Madame d’Artagnan to take.

____

Smiling into his dark eyes, Francoise thanked him. “Merci, Aramis.”

____

Jumping out after his maman, d’Artagnan turned to his papa. “Better watch out for Aramis,” he whispered but loud enough for the handsome Musketeer to hear.

____

“Charles,” Alexandre gently patted his son’s left cheek, just as he used to do when the boy had been nothing but a wee petit, “Aramis may have many talents and I don’t mean just his skills as a Musketeer.” With a twinkle in his eyes he further added, “But I have much more under my belt than he.”

____

“Alexandre!” Glaring at her husband, a pretty flush stained Francoise’ face. “You’re embarrassing me,” she hissed. At first Francoise hoped the double entendre passed over Charle’s head. Though when she caught her son’s knowing eyes Francoise’ embarrassment deepened realizing her child knew exactly to what his father referred. Stomping her foot she flounced away from the men.

____

Highly amused, used to this type of banter from his parents though today’s was rather risqué even for them, d’Artagnan sauntered over to the carriage where an equally entertained Aramis stood with his friends along with Abney. “May I lend a hand in causing our,” he made both of his eyebrows rise up and down, “ _accident_?”

____

"More the merrier, pup." Showing the whelp where to position himself, between the other men, Porthos was going to bear the brunt of lifting the carriage so that the others could remove the right rear wheel.

____

After it was accomplished they all set to work damaging the axle and wheel enough to make them appear broken. So with the carriage now tipped over at an angle, and its broken parts scattered into pieces, this half of their mission had been completed.

____

“Hey, maman," d'Artagnan strode over to where she stood under the shade of a large tree, "do we give off the appearance of having tried to repair our carriage so that Comte Delaflote believes in our story?”

____

With the tip of her thumb, Francoise rubbed a smudge of dirt further along Charle's chin. "Mmmmm," she hummed. Looking past her son to the others, including Alexandre, Francoise smirked. "If any of you had been coming to my home in that state I'd turn you all away."

____

"Guess'n that answered the pup's question." Reaching out Porthos ruffled d'Artagnan's long hair.

____

"Ah geez!" Trying to dance out of the way of that very large hand it was too late. Putting his hair back into some order, d'Artagnan scowled up at the giant Musketeer. "Bad enough when my parents do that to me," he nearly whined. But all Porthos did was wink at him.

____

Choosing his moment Zaru zipped off Francoise' shoulder and past the men. Rapidly climbing up to the carriage’s roof he leaped onto a tree limb.

____

"'Ow long do ya think it'll take us ta get Zaru down?" His chapeau laid safe on the ground, out of the monkey's reach for now. Removing the bandanna from his head Porthos wiped sweat that was trickling down his face.

____

"We do not want to tarry much longer." Blue eyes shifting from Zaru to its owner and back again, Athos sighed. This is not what they needed. That boy would have to coax the animal back down from there.

____

Chattering away happily, Zaru hung upside down by its long tail which was curled around one of the branches. Swinging back and forth it was having a high old time.

____

"We're lucky there isn't a stream or river nearby," d'Artagnan casually remarked. He was used to this sort of play from his pet.

____

"Why's that?" Enjoying the Capuchin's lively antics, Aramis was genuinely interested.

____

"Zaru loves nothing more than to play and swim in the water." Holding his right arm out, d'Artagnan whistled. All Zaru did at that was continue swinging, while shaking his head back and forth.

____

"Tis probably my imagination working overtime," Athos pinched the bridge of his nose. "But judging by your pet's head gestures it would appear that he disapproves of that sound." Noting the young man's lips purse, Athos knew he wasn't far off the mark.

____

"You are correct, Athos." Not wanting to waste more time d'Artagnan let out a shriller whistle this time, piercing the quiet peacefulness of their surroundings. This apparently caught Zaru's attention as he swung himself back onto the thick limb. Scrambling down the tree the Capuchin stood in front of d'Artagnan. Still shaking its head back and forth, Zaru showed how unhappy he was by letting out a sharp whistle of his own.

____

"That oddly sounds similar to the whistle you just gave your pet." Knowing they still had yet to carry out the rest of their plan Aramis wanted to understand how the youngster and Zaru communicated. At times it appeared as if d’Artagnan and Zaru knew what the other was thinking. That alone was a scary proposition.

____

"Usually a sharp whistle is the Capuchin's way of giving off a warning call." Bending down d'Artagnan tapped his pet lightly on the head then the nose. "Bad. Very bad, Zaru. You're holding everything up."

____

"So ya were warnin' the monkey." His entire body shook with laughter. "While it was warnin' ya right back." Thinking it was a funny sight, Porthos thought it would be a good story to tell over drinks at The Wren whenever they got back to Paris.

____

"Pretty much," d'Artagnan readily agreed. Gathering Zaru into his arms he joined his parents. "Oh, maman, I do believe tis time to put your acting skills to the test." Placing a kiss upon her cheek, d'Artagnan stepped aside. "Just in case they've gotten rusty."

____

" _Rusty!_ Swatting at her son's young backside, Francoise gave Charles a look that meant she'd get even with him later for that comment. With a dramatic sigh, she fluttered her long, dark eyelashes. "What I do I do for king and country." Bowing before her captive audience she neatly turned around to face Alexandre. "Be ready to catch me, mon cher," Francoise saucily winked at him.

____

Rolling his eyes, Alexandre held out his arms receiving his wife into them as she pretended to be injured.

____

"Oh mon Dieu! It hurts so!" Glancing at the men around her, Francoise impishly grinned. "How does that sound to you, gentlemen?"

____

"Like a lady in distress, Madame." Exchanging smiles with the others, Athos was beginning to think they could actually pull this off. He also noted where d'Artagnan came by his mischievous look.

____

"May I ask what your injury is?" Aramis needed to know, bien they all did, to act accordingly.

____

Still in her husband's arms, Francoise held out a slim right leg pointing to her ankle. "I've sprained it from tumbling out of our carriage after it tipped over."

____

"Very good, mon coeur." Placing a kiss on her dainty brow, Alexandre laughed.

____

"And being a man of quality," tongue firmly in cheek Athos' eyes crinkled up in the corners, "Delaflote would never dare to check her injury for himself."

____

"If he even touches the hem of her gown to examine her..." Eyes darkening like a storm about to create havoc, Alexandre left the threat hang in the air.

____

"Mmmmm.” Quietly humming, Aramis' gaze encompassed the others. "I'm pleased not to be the Comte." He was exceedingly confident in his own skills. But Alexandre d'Artagnan had many more years of experience in the field. If the fierce look the older man wore just now was anything to go by, Alexandre would be a force to reckon with when angered.

____

Placing Francoise back onto the solid ground Alexandre noted Charles approaching her with a mound of dirt in his hands and a smile on his lips.

____

Before papa could say a word d'Artagnan blurted out, "Maman better look the part she is to play, oui?"

____

Sadly looking down at her unsullied, beautiful gown, Francoise knew appearances were everything when trying to pull the wool over someone’s eyes. Nodding her consent, she let her child put the finishing touches to this charade of theirs.

____

"Now we should begin to proceed to Delaflote's residence." Having turned loose the team of horses that pulled the carriage, with Abney's help, they now had enough mounts to see them to the estate. Observing Francoise double up with her husband, Athos watched d'Artagnan and Abney do likewise. It would be a filthy group that turned up at Delaflote's door.

____

++++

____

_Delaflote's Chateau_

____

When the footman opened the door he was of two minds to close it again. It was only the pain-filled face belonging to the woman that changed his attitude slightly concerning the motley group before him. "Do you require assistance?"

____

"Our carriage lost a wheel," Alexandre lied to him. Technically it wasn't a total untruth. They had just helped the wheel along. "My wife was injured when it tipped over throwing her out of it."

____

Noting how dirty and disheveled they all were the footman wondered what had befallen the rest of them. "Did you all fall out?" Which would explain their sorry state. Still he wasn't sure what to do. His employer hadn't been exactly in the best of moods so far this morning.

____

Certain what was behind the obvious hesitation on the footman's face, Athos offered what he hoped would be a satisfactory explanation. "We have been endeavoring to fix the carriage ourselves but alas it seems to be beyond repair."

____

Praying that this wouldn't find himself in too much hot water with Comte Delaflote over this, he opened the door wider. "Do come in then." Stepping aside, he let them enter. "You may place your wife over there." Pointing toward a large sofa, located in the sitting room, the footman ushered the couple over.

____

"What the deuce is going on in here?" Delaflote bellowed, not at all pleased to be disturbed. He was astounded at the group of people his footman had let inside his home.

____

"We humbly beg your pardon for this sudden intrusion upon your privacy, Monsieur..." Alexandre began but was abruptly cut off by the wave of an imperious hand.

____

"Is that a... a _monkey_?" Taken aback Delaflote's jaw dropped open, as the animal in question perched on a young man's shoulder.

____

"Zaru's my pet, Monsieur." Gently tapping the monkey's left foot, d'Artagnan hoped Zaru would remain calm and behave himself. He wasn't ready yet for his Capuchin to cause mischief. They couldn't afford to be thrown out before they found the proof King Louis desired.

____

Glaring at his footman, Delaflote advanced on his hapless retainer. "Why have you admitted them?"

____

"If you'd only let me finish," Alexandre huffed.

____

"Let me." Patting her husband's arm, Francoise turned a most charming smile on their host. Going on to introduce everyone in their party she then informed the Comte what had transpired that brought them to this point.

____

++++

____

When the lovely woman finished explaining the accident, Delaflote was more than happy to put them up until he could get a physician to see to Madame d'Artagnan's injury. Perhaps even go so far as to offer one of his own carriages for them to travel on in.

____

"I will send for a physician immediately." Oblivious to the looks shared by his unexpected visitors, Delaflote spoke to one of his maids. Gazing down at Madame again, a predatory gleam entered his eyes. Picking up one of her hands he placed a gentlemanly kiss upon it. "I can't stand to see any woman suffer if I can rectify the problem."

____

"'Ave ya ever just looked at someone and automatically felt annoyed?" With a disgusted expression Porthos could see the others felt the same way, especially Alexandre. The man appeared ready to explode at the not so subtle hint of the Comte's interest in the Gascon's wife.

____

Zaru was sensitive by nature and picked up on the tension starting to build in the air. Screeching at the top of his lungs he jumped suddenly from d'Artagnan's shoulder to the sofa, startling the Comte who nearly lost his footing.

____

"Merde!" Delaflote swore. "Can you not control that animal?' Glaring at the youngster, he got himself back under control. "Apologies. Tis the first time I've had a _monkey_ for a guest in my home," he tried to laugh the fright off. "I'll make exceptions for your pet considering that it's more than likely feeling unsettled from the experience."

____

"Merci for your kindness, Comte." Speaking for all of them, Francoise batted her eyelashes at Delaflote. A little goes a long way in her expert opinion.

____

Making her entrance, at this juncture, was a beautiful woman with long, dark and wavy curls. A lush figure showed off her couture gown to perfection. Turning green eyes, like sparkling gems, upon their visitors they then fastened onto Delaflote. "I didn't know you were receiving guests so early today."

____

"I will explain all to you in a moment, ma chere." Pleased that his mistress had made an appearance he smiled into her eyes.

____

Stiffening, Athos shook his head. He recognized that voice or thought he had. It couldn't be her. He tried denying it to himself. Five long years had past since they had last been together. Their parting had been a bitter one with neither of them giving way. Still that seductive sound Athos had just heard bothered him. His back had been turned away when the woman had first entered the room. So when he dared to seek the owner of that disturbing voice, Athos felt perhaps he was having an episode of sorts. The room wavered, then darkened, all around him until it narrowed down to only himself and that of the woman ... his former wife - _Anne_.

____

++++

____

_Note:_

____

_Quote: "Have you ever just looked at someone and automatically felt annoyed?"_ is from Aunty Acid.

____


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day - Delaflote's residence_

How in God's name did Anne turn up here? Running a hand through his hair, Athos grimaced. If she's here, and for all appearances playing the mistress, Anne would be the spy working for King Louis and His Eminence.

Her green eyes sparkled with interest while taking in the group, never the less her cool gaze focused on one man in particular... her ex-husband _Athos_. "Oh my! But he appears ready to bolt. Mmmmm, she knew that her presence was the last thing he would have expected to encounter here. She just so loved springing surprises on people.

In her case Milady already knew that Athos had become one of the infamous Musketeers otherwise known as the inseparables. If it hadn't been for this assignment their paths wouldn't have crossed unless Milady had deemed it necessary to show herself to him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost and it walked up to you and shouted _boo_." Whispering into Athos' ear Aramis wasn't sure what to make of his older brother's behavior.

"Almost," Athos muttered back. "Explanations will have to wait for later."

Shrugging, as if he could care less, Aramis went over to stand beside Porthos' large frame.

"What's wrong with 'im?" Seeing Athos turn white as a sheet, Porthos thought his friend ill.

"Someone yelled _boo_." Enjoying the scowling face Porthos turned on him, Aramis crossed over next to where Alexandre was still conversing with the Comte.

"I've had my servants open up rooms for all of you," Delaflote said. "My people will retrieve your luggage as well."

"You are too kind." Nodding her thanks, Francoise glanced at her husband.

"Indeed," Alexandre agreed reaching out to shake Delaflote's hand in a strong grip.

"Once you've settled I'll have my servants prepare baths so you may wash off the grime and feel more refreshed." Snapping his fingers, two servants immediately appeared at Delaflote's side. "In the meantime I will also send one of my staff to fetch a physician to examine Madame."

"I too would like to help, Yvain" Anne offered.

"Forgive me but who would this lovely lady be?' Putting on charming airs, Alexandre acted like any other man would when faced with so beautious a vision. Though in his own eyes there was truly only one of such perfection and that was his wife.

"Ah!" Delaflote exclaimed. "Where are my manners?" Blushing at his blunder for forgetting to introduce her, he took Milady's hand. "This is my guest Milady de Winter." Kissing her hand, Delaflote smiled into her mesmerizing eyes. "Forgive me my faux pas." Then in turn he introduced the d'Artagnan family to her.

"Completely forgiven, mon cher." Now that pleasantries and introductions had been made, Milady posed a question to the d'Artagnans. "I've noticed the entourage you travel with," amusement pulled at her lips upon noting Athos' obvious discomfort. Bien, obvious to her at least. "Having missed their introduction who would they be?"

"Now I have been remiss," Alexandre said contritely. "These are my bodyguards." Pointing from one man to the other he announced their names. " _Athos_... _Porthos_... and _Aramis_." Each man bowed slightly as their names were called out. "Because of the importance of the position I hold back in Lupiac several attempts on my life have been made." Glancing sideways at the inseparables, Alexandre turned his gaze back upon his host. "Bodyguards alas," he held out his arms, "have become the norm for me of late."

Steering the conversation away from her husband, Francoise decided to play upon Delaflote's sympathies some more. Flexing her right ankle, she winced as if in pain. "Oh it does hurt so, Alexandre!"

"Come!" Announced Delaflote in a voice that demanded attention. "Your rooms should be nearly prepared by now." Gazing down upon the Gascon beauty, he felt his heart beat faster within his breast. Oui, he did have Milady dancing attendance upon him, but Madame d'Artagnan nearly stole his very breath away. "I would see you not suffer upon this sofa for very much longer."

"And once established in your room," Milady gave the other woman her sincerest smile, "I shall help you bathe. After that you and I will very carefully get you dressed into whatever you choose."

"How can we ever repay you for your thoughtfulness, Mademoiselle?" Bowing, Alexandre mimicked what Delaflote had done to Francoise by placing a kiss upon Milady's hand.

"Oh tis all Yvain's doing." Milady's husky laughter filled the air. "I'm simply making it easier for Madame d'Artagnan since she's injured." Then her green eyes sparkled with mischief, while catching Athos watching her. "And Monsieur d'Artagnan, tis Madame. I'm a widow." 

"I stand corrected," Alexandre dipped his head.

"I want to express my thanks, Comte." Francoise broke in. "I know I speak for my husband when saying that we're all beyond grateful."

Waiting to be led to their rooms, d'Artagnan turned a sour face on Aramis and Porthos. Athos, for some strange reason, appeared huddled near the entrance. The older man seemed like he couldn't make up his mind whether to stay or take his leave of them.

"Whelp, why da ya look like ya just sucked on some lemons? And bad ones at that." Chuckling low, Porthos nudged the boy in the ribs nearly knocking d'Artagnan off his feet. To which had Zaru bouncing up and down on the kid's shoulder.

"I don't know about papa," d'Artagnan huffed, "but I cannot stand to be in the Comte's presence much longer if he keeps ogling maman in that manner." His hands itched to pitch Delaflote out of the room or further, if he wouldn't catch hell from his parents. As if Porthos read his mind, the Musketeer offered him a piece of advice.

"Ya can't always control who walks inta your life... but ya can control which window ya throw 'em out of, kid." With a wink and another hair ruffle to the boy's head, Porthos exchanged smirks with Aramis.

"Is that a new Musketeer motto I haven't heard about from my uncle?" Once again d'Artagnan found himself fixing his hair. If he could get away with it he'd do the same back to the darker-skinned man. That is if he could reach that high.

"It should be," Aramis laughed. "You're a sharp one, d'Artagnan. I think you'll fit right in with the rest of us once you're old enough to become a recruit."

"We'll see," d'Artagnan's eyes flicked towards his parents. "I may have a fight on my hands and will have to enlist Uncle Jean's help when the time comes."

Having seen the reunion between their captain and d'Artagnan, both Porthos and Aramis knew for a certainty that soon the lad would be staying at the Garrison on a permanent basis. In fact when the time came neither of them would be surprised if the young Gascon vanished from Lupiac so fast that d'Artagnan's parents wouldn't even have a say in the matter.

"Sometimes I just want to get on with it." Zaru was trying to get his attention by crawling on top of his head but d'Artagnan was having none of it. Keeping a firm grip on his Capuchin's tail, Zaru had to remain on his shoulder.

Coming up behind them both, Aramis poked his grinning face in-between Porthos and the lad. "There speaks the voice of youth. Impatience could be your downfall one day, young Gascon."

Ignoring the marksman's words, d'Artagnan became concerned on Athos' worrying behavior.

Noting where the youngster's eyes had strayed, Aramis lightly tapped d'Artagnan's cheek. "We're wondering too but Athos said he'd offer an explanation to us later."

When several more servants descended upon them, the group was then beckoned to follow them up a long, winding staircase. Francoise snuggled her head up against Alexandre's shoulder, while he carried her up. The rest of the men followed behind.

Breaking loose from d'Artagnan, Zaru decided that the decorative railing was inviting him to have some fun. The Capuchin climbed rapidly to the top of it and then proceeded to slide back down, repeating this until d'Artagnan managed to grab him up. Smiling sheepishly at Aramis' and Porthos' amused reactions, he quietly scolded his pet. Athos appeared to be in a world of his own and didn't even seem to notice his pet's monkey business.

++++

_The Rue Charlemagne - a street in the 4th arrondissement of Paris, in the Saint-Gervais quarter, near the Saint-Paul quarter_

Meanwhile one of Delaflote's retainers had been sent out to procure the services of the local physician. When the servant reached the city, he knew where to go since the Comte had used Doctor Fasset's services in the past.

Entering the physician's office, he was surprised to see another man there instead of Fasset.

Plans had since changed, the more King Louis and Richelieu had thought upon matters. They couldn't simply waylay one of Delaflote's people when the time came. For certainly the Comte would have become suspicious at his retainer's disappearance. So Richelieu made it his business to find out who was the doctor that normally treated Delaflote. Between himself and His Majesty they conceived a plan that would make the physician believe he was going to treat one of Richelieu's close acquaintances.

Upon notice, Doctor Fasset had been quite willing to go on an extensive journey that would take him out of Paris on behest of Cardinal Richelieu. The doctor had been quite pleased that his services were being requested by the cardinal so Fasset never thought to question them.

So it was that Antoine Granville, King Louis' personal physician, now stood in place of the regular doctor.

"You are not Doctor Fasset." Concerned on how the Comte would react in him not finding the physician in residence, the servant became quite agitated.

"In that I am in full agreement with you," Antoinie quipped. "He has recently taken me in as his assistant." Antoine didn't realize he could lie so convincingly. But Comte Delaflote's retainer appeared to take his words at face value. "Doctor Fasset is currently out of town." Having been briefed on the part he was to play, Antoine was beginning to feel more comfortable with his role.

"You will have to do," the servant huffed. Then he went on to explain why his master required the man's time.

++++

_Back at Comte Delaflote's residence - Athos' room_

"Ya feel like tellin' us what's wrong now?" Having bathed, and in fresh clothing, Porthos felt more like himself. He and Aramis had decided it was time for some explanations on their brother's odd behavior downstairs. They had promised d'Artagnan to fill him in later, if that was Athos' wishes.

"I gather you've figured it out that _Milady_ is the one working for the king?" Both his friend's bobbed their heads in the affirmative. Sitting in one of the highbacked chairs Athos rested his head against it. Closing his eyes, he wished he didn't have to offer them anything. "She was once my wife another lifetime ago."

"Whoa!" Seeking out another chair, Porthos collapsed on it. "I wasn't expectin' that one."

"Nor I." Throwing his chapeau on the bed, Aramis took another chair. "How long have we known you, Athos?"

"Too long," was the surly response. Sending the other two men an ironic look, Athos shook his head. "You are both shocked that I hadn't offered up my past to you on a silver platter when we first met."

"I ain't sayin' that," Porthos snapped. He was hurt that Athos would think such a thing.

"You might not," he wasn't pleased upon hearing this, though this explained a lot, "but I am." Brow rising Aramis couldn't contain his irritation with Athos and, he admitted to himself, his own natural curiosity. Many a time their eldest friend had compared Aramis to a cat. And just like that feline of the species his brother pointed out, none too gently, that very _curiosity_ could wind up killing Aramis one day. Remembering what he had recently told d'Artagnan about the boy's impatience, Aramis should take his own advice.

"We were both young, of course," Athos revealed. "In regards to myself my own naivety led to my eventual downfall."

"She cheat on ya?" When Aramis' chapeau nearly hit Porthos in the face, he glowered at the marksman. "Ya tryin' ta knock my eye out?"

"With my _chapeau_?" This was not the time to laugh but Aramis was very tempted too in face of Porthos' ire.

Blunt to the point, not caring how brutal his words could be, Porthos always got to the heart of the matter. Whereas other glib tongued individuals would dance around the issue, Athos preferred his large friend never change his ways. "In a manner," was Athos' curt response. "One day I caught her and my brother Thomas in a tryst."

"Your _brother_?" Whistling softly through his teeth, Aramis could only stare nonplussed at Athos' stoic face. "Tis truly a day of revelations."

"Apparently," Athos drawled tightly, "they had been carrying on an affair behind my back which began even before my marriage to Anne."

 _Cuckold._ Aw, mon ami. Feeling for his brother Aramis maintained his silence, letting Athos continue.

"Anne had the audacity to laugh the affair off." Twisting his lips, Athos scanned the room praying for a bottle of liquor to magically appear and erase his dreadful past away. "Turning those hypnotizing green eyes of hers upon me Anne asked if I honestly thought she'd be capable of remaining faithful to one man."

Opening his mouth to say something witty Aramis clamped it shut, figuring he'd only make things worse.

"What cha' do at that point, Athos?" Realizing what he would have done to Thomas, Porthos' fists clenched.

"I divorced her, plain and simple." Rubbing at his forehead, Athos' brow creased as if fighting off a headache. "I legally turned over my estate and other holdings to the people of Pinon. Turned my back on my former life and," he lent forward in his chair, "joined the regiment. The rest you know."

"What happened to Thomas?" Then Aramis wished he could have taken back his words, upon noting a mad light fill the older man's eyes.

"I do not know!" Blue eyes flaring bright, Athos snarled. "Nor do I care!"

"I gather this is the first time you've seen 'er since ya parted ways?" Crossing his arms Porthos remembered well the look in Athos' face downstairs. He should have added two and two together then when seeing what the appearance of Milady had done to his brother. Then again he would never in a million years have guessed those two had once been joined in holy matrimony.

"Oui." Slowly coming to his feet Athos tucked in his billowing shirt. "Now we have to work with her," he swallowed the large lump that decided to take up residence in his throat.

This entire situation galled Athos, that much was apparent. Aramis promised himself to do all in his power to not let the past bitterness overtake his best friend. A quick glance into the fire building in Porthos' dark eyes told him that his comrade would do likewise.

"We've all cleaned up nicely." His wry glance was caught and held by the others. "So we may as well show our host how appreciative we are in his efforts to aid us." Opening the door Athos hesitated turning toward the sound of Porthos sniffing the air.

"I smell food." Grinning and rubbing his stomach Porthos heard Aramis' snicker. "Didn't realize it was close to lunch time."

Shaking his head Aramis shoved Porthos out the door right after Athos.

++++

_Downstairs - front door entrance_

Having arrived at the chateau, Antoine had introduced himself to Comte Delaflote. Taking stock of the man, he thought that perhaps in some quarters Delaflote would be considered handsome. Tall with a lithe athletic build and only a touch of grey in his hair, the Comte cut a striking figure.

"I am Antoine Granville," he bowed. "At your service, Comte." He then went on to explain why Doctor Fasset wasn't available.

Tutting for a few minutes, Delaflote decided to let this Granville person tend to Madame d'Artagnan since he was already here. He then led the man upstairs to her room.

++++

_The d'Artagnan's room_

Impatiently standing at the foot of Madame's bed, Delaflote waited to hear what Granville's verdict was. Though listening to her pitiful cries of pain every time the assistant touched her ankle, he knew it wouldn't be good news.

"Tis as I first thought." Exchanging careful looks with the couple he said, "Madame d'Artagnan's ankle is broken. Though it appears to be a clean break." Looking at the Comte he added, "I do not recommend traveling right away for fear of jostling her ankle."

"How long do you suggest?" questioned Francoise, playing her part as the injured party.

Pretending to think upon it, Antoine's lips pursed. "Give it at least a week or longer before you even think of leaving. Even then I wouldn't be happy seeing you traveling all that way home with a broken ankle."

"We can't stay here indefinitely until it heals." Acting as natural as Alexandre could under the circumstances, he tried to sound like they would be an imposition upon the Comte.

"Au contraire." Speaking up, Delaflote smiled. "My home is at your disposal for as long as you need." His eyes rested on Madame d'Artagnan's charming person.

"What a generous offer." Smiling pleasantly at Delaflote, Francoise felt more like throwing up as she tried to squelch the sickening feeling she got when the Comte stared down at her decolletage.

"I understand your reasons behind the haste to get back to Lupiac. I truely do. But tis not worth it if it harms you further, Madame." Still oblivious to the undercurrents in the room from his words, Delaflote was quite happy with himself. Satisfied everything was settled, he held out his hand to the physician.

Receiving payment, Antoine pocketed the money. "Merci," he nodded his thanks to the Comte. "I shall return to check on her ankle again later in the week since they will be your guests for a time." Departing Antoine jiggled the pouch full of coins Delaflote placed in his hand. The extra money would come in handy as there was some new equipment he needed to purchase for his office.

"As I have other business matters to tend I shall leave you two alone." Dipping his head Delaflote was about to go until her voice stopped him.

"Since we are to be your guests," Francoise gazed ruefully at her wrapped ankle, "I see no need for us to stand on ceremony."

"I agree with my wife." Wanting nothing more than to wipe that smarmy smile off Delaflote's face, Alexandre restrained himself again.

"Wonderful!" Saying that, Delaflote happily left the couple to themselves.

When the door closed, Alexandre turned blazing eyes upon his wife.

"Mon cher," tilting her head to the side, Francoise frowned, "that quick Gascon temper of yours is beginning to show. We can't afford that or this assignment could be ruined before it even begins."

"I don't have a _quick temper_. I just have a _quick_ reaction to bullshit!" he retorted hotly. "Which is all Delaflote offered us in his _oh so caring_ voice of making sure _you_ wouldn't suffer unduly on our trip back home."

"When I married you, Alexandre," blowing him a kiss, she chuckled, "you didn't have green eyes."

Overcoming his extreme bout of jealously, Alexandre climbed up on the other side of their bed to pull her into his arms. "They may never change color until this mission is completed."

++++

_Notes:_

_The Rue Charlemagne_ is really a street in the 4th arrondissement of Paris, in the Saint-Gervais quarter, near the Saint-Paul quarter

 _Quote: "You can't always control who walks into your life... but you can control which window you throw them out of."_ Aunty Acid at her best again folks.

 _Quote: "I don't have a quick temper. I just have a quick reaction to bullshit!"_ Again an Aunty Acid zinger.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy RL has been something else this week! Didn't think I was ever going to get a chapter up. But here it is.  
> A little bit of angst for Zaru in this one.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day - Comte Delaflote's residence_

Lunch had been served and thoroughly enjoyed by all, especially Porthos. Having to put on a good show for Delaflote, who was sitting with them, Alexandre went on to explain to the inseparables and his son what Doctor Granville had discussed concerning his wife's injury. 

Listening to his papa while feeding Zaru, d'Artagnan's eyes connected with him. Noting the twitching of lips, he knew his papa was pleased that so far the Comte had fallen nicely into step with their plans. "Did anyone bring maman something to eat? If not I could make up a plate to take to her."

"One of the servants already did so, Charles." Watching the food disappear as fast as Zaru could cram it into his mouth, Alexandre never failed to be amazed by the display.

"What's that ya feedin' your pet?" Trying to keep track of the food the Capuchin was eating became impossible for Porthos. He never saw an animal scarf down food so fast. One could get indigestion simply by watching Zaru's table manners or lack thereof.

"I always keep a mixture prepared for him when we travel," d'Artagnan explained to the giant. "Especially when in strange places such as this. So usually Zaru's meals consist of a variety of leaves, flowers, fruits, seeds and sometimes sugarcane for his sweet tooth." Tapping his Capuchin on the head, d'Artagnan's fingers made patterns in the air. "You nearly bit my fingers, Zaru." Catching the amused faces of the inseparables, he shrugged. "He really must be hungry."

“Oh oh!” Winking at d’Artagnan, Aramis grinned. “Porthos has been known to have a healthy sweet tooth as well.”

“Best put any candy or sweet cakes under lock and key.” Blue eyes dancing with amusement, Athos tried to forget that Anne was sitting at the other end of the table having an animated discussion with the Comte.

Giving Athos a secretive smile, d’Artagnan whispered low. “There isn’t a lock made so far that Zaru couldn't pick.”

Thinking his leg was truly being pulled, Athos tilted his head to the side smirking. When the boy raised a confident brow at him, it was then Athos realized that d’Artagnan was telling the truth in his boasting. A monkey picking a lock. It was unheard of… until now he guessed. This Athos would like to see for himself. Perhaps eventually he would.

When Zaru had eaten enough, d’Artagnan pushed back his chair to leave the table.

“Do not leave us yet. I haven’t had a chance to get better acquainted with you.” Her painted ruby lips formed a perfect moue of disappointment.

Bewildered, d’Artagnan twisted around to gaze at her. Hopping on top of his head, Zaru shook his own back and forth again in disapproval. ‘I want to check on maman, Madame.” Dipping his head toward her d’Artagnan then left. His pet happy once more, its long tail curled about his neck.

His eyes kept track of the lad, until d’Artagnan disappeared around the corner. A banked fire began to kindle in Athos’ eyes. “She will not sink her wicked claws into that boy!” he hissed quietly. He knew Aramis and Porthos, who sat either side of him, had heard his words. Athos would count on them to help steer Anne’s desires away from the young Gascon.

“She may just want ta work out details with the whelp on our plans gettin’ the goods on the Comte,” Porthos carefully offered. Hoping that would prevent his older brother from jumping out of his chair to choke the life out of Milady.

“And I could sell you The Pont Royal for a mere pittance,” Athos snorted. “If that were the case, in which I severely doubt, Anne could talk to any of us or the youngster’s parents for that matter.”

Thinking hard on those words, Porthos decided that he was wrong and that his older friend was right. “Apparently then Milady likes ‘em barely out of the cradle.” Wincing when Athos cringed at his words, Porthos could have kicked himself. Instead someone else got even with him.

Reaching past Athos, Aramis cuffed Porthos up the backside of the head.

“Eh!” Glaring at the marksman, Porthos at first didn’t understand why Aramis attacked him.

“D’Artagnan wouldn’t appreciate your words!” Aramis hissed. “Nor do I and nor does Athos. After all the lad is only seventeen.”

“Oui,” Athos nodded. “Yet in some quarters the pup would already be considered a man. But still she’s only few years younger than myself.”

“Far too old for the Gascon.” Patting Athos on the shoulder, Aramis cheekily grinned. “Not that I’m saying that _your_ too old, mon ami.”

Ignoring Aramis, Athos lips curled upward nevertheless.

“It ‘as been my experience,” Porthos winked at them, “that an older woman makes the best lover.”

“Considering what Athos recently told us,” Aramis huffed, “Milady’s the very last person he would want to see d’Artagnan get entangled with.”

“Yeah,” rubbing his chin, Porthos grimaced. “Whelp needs someone nearer ‘is own age and with a lot less baggage.”

“My thanks for seeing things my way, Porthos.” Not caring that his barely veiled sarcasm was aimed at his comrade, Athos turned his head away. It was then that he caught Alexandre staring at him with a puzzled frown upon his face. How much had the older man heard? They had been speaking low enough between the three of them, but Athos wasn’t sure if anything they had said carried over to Alexandre.

His past had been reluctantly exposed to his best friends. Up until now Captain Treville had been the only person privy to Athos’ private life. He had decided not to share this with the pup, even though the lad had been worried over Athos’ earlier bizarre behavior. Now, after noting the way Anne’s green eyes devoured the young Gascon, Athos would have to talk with him and perhaps warn the elder d’Artagnan’s as well. Shaking him from his thoughts, Athos heard Aramis snuff of muffled laughter. Glancing to his left, where the marksman was sitting with a hand covering his mouth and shoulders shaking, Athos tapped his brother on the arm. “Care to share your amusement with us?”

“I was just thinking that we could always get Zaru after her.” The rise of both eyebrows reaching near Athos’ hairline, almost set Aramis off again. “I doubt Milady would enjoy the Capuchin sitting on top of her perfectly coiffed hair.” He noted Athos’ lips twitch just a tiny bit. “Paints a humorous picture, eh?”

“Undoubtedly.” Athos’ dry response made Porthos chuckle low and shake his head in turn.

“Gentlemen,” leaning forward closer to Athos’ position, Alexandre rested his chin in his hand, “I do so love a good story and from your reactions it appears quite an amusing one.”

“Not all of it.” Refraining from rolling his eyes, Athos caught Alexandre’s gaze. Jerking his head toward the end of the table where Anne and Delaflote sat, he knew that the Gascon would catch on.

“Old history?” This could complicate matters if Athos had a past with Milady. His interest had piqued upon catching the odd word or two shared by the inseparables. Hopefully both of them were professional enough not to let their problems with one another disrupt this mission.

“Apparently not _old_ enough,” Aramis quipped. Getting that _I'll kill you where you sit look_ from Athos made him keep the rest of his thoughts to himself.

“Good thing neither of ‘em are payin’ any attention ta us or the Comte may not understand why Athos had been glarin’ daggers at Milady this whole time.”

"Your voices were quiet enough, gentlemen." Leaning forward again, Alexandre's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing. "I just happened to have a keen sense of hearing and couldn't help catching some of what was being discussed between you."

"That woman used to be my wife." Having abruptly dumped that news in Alexandre's lap, Athos was surprised at how calmly it was received.

"Tis the unexpected that makes life interesting, Athos," Alexandre drawled, his dark eyes straying to Milady. "As long as she is on our side I'll hold no worries that you both can work in harmony for the sake of France."

Dipping his head, Athos acknowledged that the other man was correct. Upon discussing the matter further with Alexandre, he heard a God awful scream followed shortly by a mighty crash.

Instantly all the men gained their feet. The inseparable's reached for their weapons only to find that none were needed. When they observed a panting d'Artagnan trying to catch his Capuchin, they didn't know what to think.

" _ZARU!_ " d'Artagnan cried out, trying to get a hold of his pet before further damaged was incurred. One of the maids upstairs had scared the daylights out of Zaru when she had popped out of the linen closet and found the monkey underfoot. He wasn't quite sure if that's what put such fright into Zaru or if it happened when the poor woman, frightened herself, accidentally stepped on the monkey's tail.

Which is why d'Artagnan made a mad dash down the flight of stairs into the dining hall. Only he was too late. He watched in horror as Zaru collided with another retainer who was holding a tray filled with dirty dishes that the servant was bringing back to the kitchen. The tray flew up in the air, dishes going all over the place, while the servant ran for his life back to the kitchen.

Standing amongst where the ruined dishes laid, d'Artagnan tried to calm Zaru down. Still screeching to high heaven, the Capuchin's shaking body wrapped itself around d'Artagnan like a scared child. Stroking his pet's back, d'Artagnan felt its trembling lessen.

"Mon Dieu!" Staring down at the mess, Delaflote's face turned bright red as his anger grew. "That monkey should be locked in a cage!" Shaking a finger at the animal he jumped back when Zaru made a lunge at him. "He's a menace!"

"My most humble apologies." Exasperated with Zaru's penchant for causing havoc, Alexandre knew he had to do something to ease the tension the monkey had created before the Comte decided to boot them all out of his home. "Of course I will pay for all damages."

Scowling at Zaru, Delaflote thought about arranging that carriage now so that the family could leave immediately. This way he'd be free of worries that his staff wouldn't up and quit on him as well as for his own personal safety. But then his mind wandered toward that exquisite Gascon woman. She was the real reason Delaflote didn't send them all packing.

"Papa, upstairs Zaru received a bad fright from a maid and then she accidentally stepped on his tail too."

Understanding now, Alexandre placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Why don't the two of you go outside for awhile." Squeezing the back of d'Artagnan's neck he whispered. "It will give the Comte time to cool off."

Sadly agreeing, d'Artagnan continued holding Zaru close to his chest. "Oui, papa." Walking past the inseparables he noted Aramis' sympathetic gaze, Porthos' sardonic one and Athos... bien, that Musketeer's expression d'Artagnan couldn't fathom at all. "Honestly, Zaru's usually even tempered," he threw over his shoulder at them while making a beeline for the exit.

"Zaru knows how ta make an impression," Porthos laughed. "I'll say that for 'im."

"Mmmmm," Aramis hummed. "I wonder how the maid is doing. It couldn't have been pleasant for her either."

"Does your mind always travel in that direction?" His brother would never change and Athos wasn't the man to make him either.

"What _direction_ would that be, mon ami?" Eyes twinkling Aramis tilted his head to the side. "Ah! Wouldn't life be dull if I always bowed to your wisdom, Athos."

"Why do I ever bother?" Muttering to himself Athos wondered what his former wife was up too now.

Her eyes never lost sight of the young Gascon, until the boy left the house. Sauntering over to Alexandre she playfully tapped him on the chest with her fan. "Both of them must keep you and Francoise on your toes." Pointing to a few streaks of gray near his temples, she smiled. "They're very attractive."

Chuckling, Alexandre was glad Francoise was upstairs. His wife wouldn't appreciate Milady's flirting with him, whether it was for show or not. "Some people call them gray hairs. I call them stress highlights."

"How funny." Looking at the spot where Yvain last stood, Milady was going to cajole him into a better mood and draw him into their conversation but he had disappeared on her. "Perhaps tis better Yvain has gone off."

"This is as good a time as any to ask you, Milady, if you've discovered anything that would help us incriminate Delaflote?" Listening as sounds of the Comte ranting at his kitchen staff could be heard clear out here, Alexandre felt sorry for the servants.

"I've searched through any paperwork I could get my hands on." Milady was frustrated at being thwarted in her progress. "So far there isn't a speck of evidence tying him to Ramon Catalina."

"Anywhere you haven't been able to search?" Coming up behind them, Athos asked his question. He couldn't believe that Delaflote didn't keep his own private journal somewhere.

"There is a safe in Yvain's office that I haven't been able to crack." She didn't like it when hitting road blocks of that nature. Admitting to herself that her skills in that area may have become somewhat rusty, Milady would bow to a better master at the craft.

"I have a way we can get into it." Noting Athos' skeptical face, Alexandre smirked. "It may be a tad unorthodox but Zaru has the _touch_."

"I thought the kid was havin' us on when 'e said that about Zaru." Scratching his head, Porthos didn't understand how a monkey could do what a human couldn't.

"Capuchin's are highly intelligent," Aramis interjected. "They'd put some people to shame."

"Then Zaru would probably be better at guard duty than the cardinal's own men." A huge grin split Porthos' swarthy features.

"I wouldn't advise you telling His Eminence that." Hearing the approach of footsteps, Milady swiftly changed the subject. "I think I'll go outside to see how Zaru is doing."

"I will join you also." In step with her, Athos was going to do his best to not let Anne be alone with the pup. He also realized d'Artagnan wouldn't appreciate the cosseting. Then again Athos was positive the lad had never before been exposed to feminine wiles such as hers.

"Don't you trust me with our young Gascon, Athos?" Her green eyes sparkled all the more brightly while confronting her former husband.

"If you could read my mind" Athos snarled, "you'd back away slowly, then run for your life."

"What a fine conversation this is turning out to be." Reaching the door Milady waited for Athos to do the gentlemanly thing and open it for her. When he simply stood there still as a statue, she rolled her eyes. " _Men!_ " Throwing the door wide open, Milady breezed past him to find d'Artagnan and Zaru.

++++

_Notes:_

_Pont Royal_ is a bridge situated right near the Louvre Palace and the Tuileries garden. It was built between 1685 and 1689 with funds from King Louis XIV, hence its name. Its design stands out from the other bridges since the arches are well higher towards the middle of the bridge, giving it a curved look.

 _Quote: "Some people call them gray hairs. I call them stress highlights."_ Belongs to Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "If you could read my mind you'd back away slowly, then run for your life."_ Yup! Another Aunty Acid line.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know Hsg is anxious for some sort of Athos whumping. I’m working on it plus a bit of d'Art whumping too. But these past chapters have been setting up the scene.  
> Warning for some bickering between the ex's.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, Comte Delaflote’s residence - Outside on the grounds, shortly following lunch_

“How is your pet doing?” Observing the young man cossetting his monkey, Milady couldn’t help but think it a sweet sight.

About to respond, since d’Artagnan felt Zaru had finally calmed down, he was not expecting the Capuchin to screech at Milady the way he did. Of course, not expecting such a reaction she had jumped away from the Capuchin, no doubt out of fear that Zaru would harm her. Sighing in resignation d’Artagnan continued stroking the monkey’s back, holding him close as one would a petit bébé. “I thought Zaru was feeling safe again.” Giving the older woman a wry smile, d’Artagnan lifted his shoulders shrugging. “Apparently I was wrong.”

Stepping closer to the young Gascon, Athos bumped shoulders with the lad. “Perhaps Zaru simply doesn’t like Milady or it could be the perfume she wears,” he smirked. “That smell,” Athos’ lips twitched slightly, “ _jasmine_ , I believe, is rather strong.” Tilting his head to the side his eyes flicked back to Anne’s furious gaze. “Tis even giving me a headache.”

“Speaking of _headaches_ ,” she spat. “I’ll give you one in spades if you continue on in that manner!”

His eyes widened upon Athos’ words, d’Artagnan’s gaze shifted to the lady in question and back again to the older man. It was a most ungentlemanly thing to have said and it had surprised d’Artagnan to hear it coming from the distinguished Musketeer’s lips. He didn’t blame Milady for being upset.

Making a disgusted sound under her breath, Milady jabbed a finger in Athos’ solid chest. “Just because you’re still mad at me,” she sneered into his face, “tis no reason to make snide remarks.”

Ah! So that’s the way the wind blew, d’Artagnan thought. They knew one another. Not in a good way either judging by Athos’ glower and Milady’s heated glare. Now what should he do to calm these murky waters? Tread carefully came to mind, lest he found himself ensnared in something that was way over his head and none of his business to boot.

“By the way,” Athos snarled back, “you’ve come down in the world it appears.” Arching a thick eyebrow, his blue eyes glittered strangely. “From a wife of means to a lowly mistress.”

“For your information,” she wanted to smack that handsome face of his, “it was a few months after our divorce that I met and married Lord de Winter.” Bending her head, Milady murmured softly, “God rest his soul.”

“I’m amazed you told the truth back in there about being a widow.” He was shocked that Anne had re-married. More to the point he was taken by surprise at the speed in which she had done so after they parted. She never did let much grass grow underfoot before setting about doing whatever met her fancy. “Your pious act doesn't fool me. No doubt it was Lord de Winter’s money that appealed to you more than the man himself ever did.”

Afraid to say anything but knowing he must before more fireworks erupted, d’Artagnan butted in. “Ummmm, marriage didn’t seem to agree with either of you then, oui?” As far as questions go his was rather lame, d’Artagnan winced even after he had voiced it. He should have just stood there looking _sweet and adorable_. His maman said it worked every time and that people around him then tended to forget their troubles. Not so this couple.

“It was over five years ago, d’Artagnan,” Athos told the boy. ‘She was an unfaithful bitch. I doubt Anne’s changed her spots so watch yourself around her.”

“Really?” Laughing, finding Athos guarding the youth’s virtue from her hilarious. “Honestly, d’Artagnan, I simply had a fling with Thomas. That was all it amounted too.”

With Zaru content on top of d’Artagnan’s head once more, he was curious whom the man she mentioned was. “ _Thomas?_ ”

“My younger brother,” Athos bit out. Wanting to have had this conversation with the pup in private, he hadn’t expected to find himself speaking upon it out in the open where anyone could listen in. Fortunately no one was about. Pinching the bridge of his nose Athos noted those soulful brown eyes of d’Artagnan’s were filled with compassion.

“Whatever happened to Thomas after I left?’ With a cool look in her green eyes, Milady spitefully added, “or rather after I was unceremoniously booted out.”

“He too was _booted_ out with a hearty kick to his ass. Thomas was lucky I didn’t shoot him on the spot when I caught you two together.” It was then that Zaru reached out a furry hand to touch Athos’ much larger one that shocked him. Not sure what to do at first, he hesitated to take it. Changing his mind, Athos decided the Capuchin wasn’t going to nip him so took the proffered hand into his own. Amazement filled him when the monkey gently squeezed his fingers in turn. A most sensitive creature indeed was d’Artagnan’s pet. “You have good taste, Zaru.”

Not sure what just happened, Milady went on to explain her situation to a further degree. “As to your finding me installed as Yvain’s mistress,’ she smiled charmingly at both of them, “I work for the monarchy now and do whatever it takes as I see fit to get the job done.”

“You still have no respect for your own body I see,” Athos sniffed disdainfully. “Just as you had none for our marriage vows.”

“I won’t bother dignifying that with a response.” An idea to tease and flirt with the young Gascon had originally been her plan when she followed him outside, just to get Athos’ goat. But after her ex-husband’s words, Milady let her bit of fun fall to the wayside. Having had enough of being vilified, lifting her skirts up she flounced away in a huff.

“Apparently,” Athos drawled, “people get upset when you treat them the way they treat you.” Watching Zaru do a dance on the youngster’s head, Athos’ fancy wondered if the Capuchin was acting that way because he was happy to see the back of Anne. He couldn’t blame Zaru in the slightest for Athos felt the same.

“Athos,” struggling with the correct thing to say after the revelations he had just heard, d’Artagnan was forced to keep his words to himself when the Musketeer’s hand gently squeezed the back of his neck. It was done in much the same way d’Artagnan’s papa would do to give him comfort. Touched that Athos was beginning to warm up to him, he couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling.

“Never get married, d’Artagnan.” Dropping his hand away from the pup, Athos rested it on the pommel of his rapier. “Or else be very sure of whom you give your heart too.” Tapping the lad on the tip of d’Artagnan’s nose, his lips twisted. “I would not relish seeing you end up like me.”

Silence being the better part of valor, d’Artagnan didn’t dare utter a single word while both of them walked back to the house. On another note, Zaru was now chattering away again. At least one of them was happy. All d’Artagnan felt was confusion after Athos’ last remark to him.

++++

_Late in the day – the d’Artagnan’s room_

Listening to what her son divulged, Francoise was stunned. Not so her husband it would seem.

“Mon ange, earlier Athos had told me they had been married before.” Relaxing on the bed beside his wife, Alexandre playfully tried to tickle her wrapped ankle which was now elevated by several plump pillows. “But according to d’Artagnan the Musketeer’s marriage was worse than even I thought.”

“I’m sure we can trust them to do their jobs,” d’Artagnan offered his parents. His papa didn't appear worried but he couldn't say the same about his maman, noting her frown.

“Athos is Jean-Armand’s lieutenant.” Stretching out his long legs, Alexandre placed his head on Francoise’ shoulder. His hand rested on her arm, fingers gently stroking up and down it. Smiling to himself, Alexandre heard her sigh of contentment. “I would expect nothing less of him but to complete his mission to the best of his ability. That is not in question.”

“I think the concern here is perhaps Milady could become a loose cannon.” Shooting her son and husband a quick look, Francoise lifted her hand. “I should say that being a woman myself and confronted with someone of whom I had a stormy relationship with,” having caught Charle’s interest she continued, “I’m not sure if I could keep a cool head.”

“We can’t cancel the assignment, ma chere,” Alexandre was vexed now. “What would Louis say?”

“Louis acts like a child at times instead of the king he’s supposed to be,” she shook her head. “I believe Charles would do a better job of running France if given the opportunity."

“Ah, do be careful what you say while we’re here, Francoise, the walls could have ears.” After gently warning her, Alexandre silently agreed with her assessment of their young monarch. The boy he and Jean-Armand knew had changed with the coming years. In some respects Louis acted quite intelligently. But when thwarted reverted back to a petulant petit throwing a temper tantrum.

Laughing, Francoise gave her husband an incredulous look. “Really? In this house where tis possible Delaflote is working for Spain you’re worried he’d tell Louis what I said?”

“Bien,” Alexandre shrugged, “when you put it that way.” Then he too began to laugh, seeing the humor in it.

"Do you want to hear something else that’s funny?" Bouncing up and down on the end of the bed, Zaru was amusing himself. Grinning at his pet d’Artagnan’s eyes flicked toward his parents taking in how comfortable they were with each other. Which made him think upon Athos' words of caution to him... _be sure of whom he gave his heart too_.

"Go on, Charles," Francoise urged. "Tell us."

"I think Athos was protecting me from Milady’s wiles." Ducking his head, twin spots of red bloomed on d'Artagnan's cheeks.

Shooting straight up in bed, as if she had been a puppet on a string, Francoise' squawk of outrage filled the room. " _That brazen strumpet!_ "

"Calm yourself, mon coeur." Placing a light kiss upon her forehead Alexandre studied his son. "Did Athos have reason to believe Milady had you in her sights?"

"I don't know for certain, papa." Afraid Zaru's skull was going to kiss the ceiling soon from all that bouncing around, d'Artagnan snatched the monkey out of the air as his pet came back down. "But Milady had a certain look in her eyes when looking at me," he admitted. "One like I remember Michelle had when she tried to bait me after I wouldn't comply with her wishes."

"That young tart needed a hard hand to her backside," Francoise snorted. "You showed good sense in not taking up what she offered." Remembering how Michelle's parents let their daughter run wild like a young harlot, Francoise wouldn't have been surprised to see Michelle eventually plying her trade in their village of Lupiac.

"I inherited that _good sense_ from the two of you, oui?" Wrapping Zaru's tail around d’Artagnan’s hand kept his Capuchin in one place for the moment.

"Buttering us up?" Gently nudging his wife's side, Alexandre grinned. "Takes after you, ma cherie d'amour."

Patting Alexandre's cheek Francoise kissed it softly. "I thought that was your department not mine."

"Anyway," rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan sat on the edge of his parent's bed, "I'm not interested in a dalliance with Milady." He held up one finger. "Plus I'd never hurt Athos for all the world."

"Hero worship in its early stages," Francoise whispered to her husband. "I think we talked of this after Charles first met the inseparables."

"Sadly what I said before still hasn't changed," Alexandre mumbled. "I enjoyed being Charles' hero. Time to step aside I guess." Muttering why his son had to grow up and leave their cozy nest, Alexandre bowed to the inevitable. Clearing his throat, he spoke louder. "Now about tonight," stabbing the boy with a penetrating look, Alexandre hoped both Charles and Zaru were ready for it, "you know what needs to be done?"

Zaru was now sitting on d'Artagnan's lap. Gently he rubbed the top of his Capuchin's head, feeling the soft fur sliding between his long fingers. "Zaru will pick the lock and if lady luck smiles on us he'll get me into that safe as well."

"Take only papers showing Delaflote's correspondence with the Spanish," Alexandre reminded the youngster.

Huffing, blowing his long hair out of his face, d'Artagnan gave a long suffering sigh. "You act like I haven't done this before." Zaru chose that moment to start shaking his head back and forth in disapproval again but this time it was directed toward d'Artagnan's papa. "See," he laughed. "I think if Zaru could truly talk he'd give you a piece of his mind."

Observing Alexandre trying to come up with a response to that, Francoise said one word. "Don't." Turning toward her son, her lips pursed. "I do have some concerns. I worry that the Comte will become suspicious and check his safe before we are long gone from here," she tapped her chin while thinking about it. "I mean it would be the obvious thing to blame us for taking any documents he may have in that safe."

"Or he could lay the blame squarely at Milady's feet," d'Artagnan countered. "I don't think she should remain here when we depart."

"One thing at a time, both of you. Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Running a hand through his thick head of hair, Alexandre blew out a breath. "I have a more pressing problem to contend with."

"What could be more pressing than me getting into that safe?" Noting distaste cross his papa's face, d'Artagnan bit his lip thinking it must be bad.

"My repartee needs polishing up," Alexandre admitted to them. "Tis been awhile since I've been in polite company, aside from your lovely selves of course." Feeling Francoise gently patting his chest, Alexandre kissed her hand. "I fear I may embarrass myself as I'm dealing with a master in Delaflote."

"Papa, I have faith in your abilities." Glancing at his maman, d'Artagnan winked at her. "We both do."

"Ah!" Chuckling, Alexandre dipped his head at the boy. "Then my confidence is fully restored." When Francoise snuggled closer, he lowered his head to deliver a lingering kiss upon her lips. "But you know I'd rather be up here with my delightful, entertaining wife than having to deal with that popinjay."

Blushing to the tips of his ears, d'Artagnan scowled. "At least wait until I am out of the room, papa!"

"When you become involved in a relationship, young man," gazing ruefully into his wife's dancing eyes, reluctantly Alexandre pulled away, "you'll sing a different tune." Removing himself from the bed Alexandre adjusted his clothing. "I guess I should go back downstairs for appearances sake at least.”

Teasing her husband, Francoise voice took a seductive turn. "Try not to be too long, Alexandre. Tis boring just me and this book." Holding up what she had been reading, Francoise pouted.

"Maman! Really!" With Zaru on d'Artagnan's shoulder and tail curled about his neck he rushed out of the room, his parent's laughter ringing in his ears. He knew his papa followed, because d'Artagnan heard heavy footsteps behind him. It wasn't until they were side-by-side, going down the staircase, that they encountered Delaflote going up it in rather a hurry. Concerned, d'Artagnan anxiously glanced sideways at his papa because he was pretty sure that their host was heading for his maman's room. Badly needing a distraction, d'Artagnan quickly whispered a series of commands to Zaru.

When Delaflote acknowledged them with a brief greeting, he went to brush past the pair. His mind was on other things like that delectable Gascon woman. While his thoughts were filled with her he became startled, nearly missing a step in the process. It was a shock to his system when that blasted monkey's tail whipped out to dip into the front pocket of his vest. How the deuce it managed to pluck out the jeweled key that was in it was anyone's guess! Then that creature flew out of d'Artagnan's arms and raced down the stairs, the key still securely held in Zaru's hand. "Merde!" Running after the monkey, Delaflote nearly missed a few steps in his haste. That's all he needed to do. Break a few bones and he'd be in the same shape as poor Francoise.

Grinning at the lad Alexandre slapped his son's back, well pleased at the distraction. "Francoise is safe for the moment." Chuckling, he and Charles followed after Delaflote but at a more leisurely pace.

++++

_Main room_

"Why was the Comte runnin' around like a lunatic just a moment ago?" Thinking it looked quite funny, Porthos didn't know whether to offer help or not. Catching sight of the whelp's mischievous face pretty much told the story. "Ya got Zaru workin' on 'im again, huh?"

"I'm wearing Delaflote out so he won't pester maman." Feeling the big Musketeer throw a huge arm around his shoulders, d'Artagnan smiled. "I've got to find Zaru before the Comte catches up to him though." Slipping out from underneath Porthos' arm, d'Artagnan headed for the servant's quarters. When he and his papa had reached the bottom of the steps d'Artagnan had caught a brief glimpse of his pet, noting that was the general direction Zaru had taken. On the way there he passed Aramis who gave him a pleasant smile and dip of his head.

Joining Porthos, Aramis too was curious as to what the commotion was all about but he figured someone would clue him in at the appropriate time. But there was something else that bothered him more. "Porthos, have you noticed that some of the servants here hardly say more than a word or two when you speak to them?"

"Uh, can't say that I've 'ad the opportunity ta chat any of 'em up, Mis." Bumping his shoulder against the marksman, he teased his friend. "You're a charmer I'll grant ya that. Still not everyone's willin' ta be sweet talked outta their clothes, mon ami." Whistling, Porthos left a poor flummoxed Aramis behind.

It took only a few seconds for Porthos' remark to sink in. "I don't charm everyone I meet out of their clothes," Aramis muttered to himself. "Only the ones that take my fancy." Going to find his brother and make the man take his words back, Aramis was a man on a mission.

Having listened in with amusement to the two Musketeers speaking, Alexandre could only shake his head and feel sorry for poor Jean-Armand.

++++

Finding himself nearing the servant's area, d'Artagnan could have sworn he heard someone speaking Spanish from inside that area.

"Lo siento," a female voice whispered.

Straining to hear more, d'Artagnan stood right outside the quarters with his ear against the door.

"Por favor, no lo sé," a gruff male voice pleaded.

Not catching the next few words d'Artagnan did manage to hear the same female voice again.

"Comprendo."

Why would Delaflote be employing Spaniards in his household? That would cast obvious suspicion, as surely as if the Comte stood outside yelling to the world that he was working hand in hand with Spain. He'd have to tell the others later, right now d'Artagnan had to find his pet so they could get to work.

++++

Finally discovering Zaru in the kitchen perched on top of a cabinet throwing dishes at Delaflote, d'Artagnan did his best not to lose it himself and start laughing. Making a fist he held up his hand then opened and closed it again. Following up with a sharp whistle it was then that the Capuchin lept into the air landing on top of the Comte's head, then hopped over into d'Artagnan's waiting arms.

Frantically touching his head, Delaflote was nearly beside himself as he spun about in a circle. "Mon Dieu! That... that creature should be shot! He's a menace!" After this family left, Delaflote knew he'd have an aversion to monkeys the rest of his life.

"I cannot say how sorry I am for all the trouble Zaru has been causing you, Comte Delaflote," d'Artagnan apologized profusely. Retrieving the key from his Capuchin's hand he gave it over to the nearly hysterical man.

Grabbing it from the boy Delaflote tried to compose his shot nerves before marching away.

After the furious Comte stomped off, d'Artagnan clearly heard Delaflote say something about _monkey stew_. With Zaru chirping in his ear, d'Artagnan sighed and tapped his pet on the nose. "Best keep a low profile for awhile or you'll end up being served for dinner." Wrinkling his nose up at the thought of Zaru becoming the main course at Delaflote's table, d'Artagnan was pleased at least that he had successfully diverted the Comte's interest in his maman for a time.

++++

_Very late into the evening - outside Delaflote's office_

Everyone was abed by now, everyone that is, except for d'Artagnan and Zaru. Giving his Capuchin a long hairpin, courtesy of his maman, he let his pet do its magic. Zaru's fingers worked the hairpin into the lock. Maman's hairpins were especially designed for such tasks. One never knew when an opportunity would present itself for this type of job and she always made sure never to leave home without them. So it was that less than a minute went by when the click of the lock told d'Artagnan he now had access to the office and Delaflote's safe.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "Apparently, people get upset when you treat them the way they treat you.”_ Is from Aunty Acid.

Spanish words: (If I've gotten them wrong I will blame the internet sites I visited)

 _Lo siento_ \- Sorry.

 _Por favor, no lo sé_ \- Please, I don't know.

 _Comprendo_ \- I understand.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning... someone gets shot and someone gets slapped. Just sayin'.
> 
> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same night - inside Delaflote's office_

Squinting his eyes, d'Artagnan waited until his vision adjusted to the darkness of the room. Except for a few times when bumping into some furniture that he felt had deliberately gotten in his way, d’Artagnan had managed to avoid any serious injury upon finally locating the safe that was tucked into a corner.

His pet was silent for once, having been trained to act accordingly in cases such as this. Zaru had been sitting on d’Artagnan’s shoulder again, the Capuchin's tail entwined around his neck as usual. Gently removing Zaru’s tail, d'Artagnan went to set the monkey on top of the desk when he painfully encountered the edge of it. Banging his knee quite hard, he elicited a low hiss not wanting to be discovered. "Merde!"

If he didn't want to maim himself further, before accomplishing his task, d'Artagnan had to risk lighting the candle he had brought along. It shed enough light to illuminate the safe. Doing his best to place his body in such a way, d'Artagnan blocked any candlelight from being seen from underneath the door.

When trying to crack a safe, Zaru had an uncanny knack of knowing when the correct tumblers clicked into place. It was a tremendous help to d'Artagnan, whose skills in that direction were not quite as good as his Capuchin's. Having long thought it was because of his pet's sensitive hearing that Zaru was able to do what he does, working in tandem it didn't take them long to find the right combination. 

Placing the candle on the floor, d'Artagnan carefully opened the safe up. Reaching inside he took out all the documents contained within the safe. Holding them close to the candlelight, he quickly perused through them. Having been taught some Spanish by Giles, an elderly neighbor that was half French and half Spanish, d'Artagnan grew to understand enough of the language to speak it passably and hold a short conversation. As for reading it that had proven more difficult. With Gile's kind patience, d'Artagnan managed to retain some of that knowledge as well.

What he looked for now was anything that had Ramon Catalina's name upon it. Wherever the Spanish Ambassador's moniker was d'Artagnan felt certain would be the information they desperately needed, showing collusion between Comte Delaflote and Spain.

So far most of the papers d'Artagnan had gone through were written in French, mentioning nothing of Catalina. Scanning the rest of the material as fast as he could d'Artagnan carefully placed them back inside the safe, they were next to useless to him.

When Zaru batted d'Artagnan on the head with a rolled up document that had fallen onto the floor, he could have kissed his Capuchin. For it was the one which condemned the Comte for his association with Spain. Delaflote's duplicity would now be exposed to King Louis and Cardinal Richelieu. They would then deal with the traitor as they saw fit, though not before extracting other much needed information first.

Blowing out the candle, d'Artagnan safely tucked the document inside a hidden pocket of his jacket. Quiet as a church mouse, he crept out of the office with Zaru settled on his shoulder again. The room that had been given to his parents was down the opposite end of the hall. Padding softly down in that direction, d'Artagnan couldn't wait to place this in their hands.

Before he was able to knock on their door however, d'Artagnan thought he had heard a noise coming from the stairwell. Not wanting to be found out he decided to unroll the incriminating evidence to slide it underneath the door, knowing his papa would spot it first thing in the morn since his maman had to play the helpless invalid.

His own room was only a few doors down from theirs. Upon reaching it, d'Artagnan cracked it open. Immediately Zaru jumped off his shoulder to run inside. Before he could join his Capuchin, sudden pain exploded in the back of his head. Dropping to the floor as consciousness began to leave him, the last thing d'Artagnan witnessed was someone shutting the door to his room so that Zaru couldn't escape and sound out an alarm.

++++

_Next morning_

"Charles is missing," were the first words out of Alexandre's mouth when he met up with the inseparables at the breakfast table.

Instantly on the alert, Athos grabbed the Gascon's arm pulling the man in close. "When did you discover this?"

Speaking in low tones, Alexandre responded. "I have the document in my possession that ties Delaflote and Catalina together. My son slipped it under the door to our room late last eve."

"And now the whelp's gone!" Porthos growled. This was the worst thing that could have happened. He had grown to like the cheeky kid and was looking forward to the pup becoming a recruit in the Musketeers.

"What of Zaru? Is he missing as well?" A frown marring his handsome features, Aramis became very afraid for their young friend.

"As soon as I opened the door to Charles’ room Zaru literally flew at me screeching like a banshee." Surprise registered on Alexandre's face. "I'm amazed that none of you heard the racket he made this morn."

"Our rooms were close to your own and I didn't hear Zaru last night either," Athos admitted. "I'm sure the Capuchin was literally climbing the walls over the pup when it happened."

"I like to think I'm a light sleeper," Aramis said. "As are most of us who live a soldier's life." Scratching at his head, even Aramis didn't understand how they would have missed the noise the monkey would have made.

"Unless I went on a bender the night before," Porthos looked at his brothers, "I wake up at the drop of a pin."

"For that matter neither myself or Francoise heard Zaru last eve," Alexandre grimaced. "We shouldn't have let our guards drop like that. Thinking that it was too early in the mission for anything to go amiss."

"In other words ya slept like the dead," Porthos grunted, understanding that all too well himself.

"Anyway, tis beside the point," he huffed. "I've given Zaru to Francoise for the time being. Since they're both upset perhaps they could calm each other down." A rough sigh escaped him while rubbing a hand up and down the back of his neck, not knowing what Charles' absence truly meant. "If this assignment costs us our son I'll kill Delaflote myself and to hell with what Louis needs from the Comte!"

There were no words the inseparables could offer the Gascon to ease his worry. None of them had children but they could understand the despair of losing someone precious to them. In this case they prayed the boy was still alive so they could return d'Artagnan to his parents. They began to wish that Captain Treville had gone undercover with them. He would know how best to proceed.

Hearing the rustling of skirts alerted the men that soon they would have company. When Milady made her entrance they were hopeful she could fill in some of the missing pieces on d'Artagnan's mysterious disappearance. Being close to Delaflote she may have overheard something about it.

"My such long faces, gentlemen." Smiling at them she soon realized something serious had taken place. Thinking to make a jest of it anyway to lighten the atmosphere, it fell quite flat. "If tis my new gown," Milady twirled around for their benefit, "I can always change it."

"Anne," Athos' baleful glare was meant to be intimidating, "tis not the time."

Tilting her head to the side, she studied her former husband. "What has occurred to put you in such a foul mood? Again I may add."

"D'Artagnan's gone." Exchanging a long look with Aramis, Porthos wanted to stop talking about it and go start looking for the kid. They've lost precious time already if this truly happened last eve.

"Do you mean _gone_ as in he left to go somewhere?" It wouldn't be that simple surely? Or the inseparables wouldn't look like they've lost their best friend. "Or he's been _kidnapped_?" Ah! She hit the nail on the head then.

"That's the issue." Deep in his heart Aramis felt it was no coincidence that the youngster had found the papers direly needed... now d'Artagnan's nowhere to be found.

"Then you know nothing of this, Milady?" When she shook her head no, Alexandre was filled with despair. "Originally we had hoped not to be here more than a day, two at the most. Granville bought us at least a week in case we couldn't find our proof." Walking over to one of the windows Alexandre peered through it, hoping for a sign of Charles to magically appear.

"At least now you have more time to discover what has befallen the boy." Curious as to why Alexandre's face quickly lost color when he turned back to gaze at her, the hairs on the back of Milady's neck stood out. Twisting around she had her answer.

"We seem to have a mutual problem, gentlemen." Keeping his gaze locked on Alexandre's tall figure, Delaflote all but ignored Milady. "I'm missing an important item from my safe and you're missing Charles."

"Oh Yvain, what are you insinuating?" Trying to play the innocent, Milady prayed her own cover wasn't blown wide open.

"That you, ma chere," Delaflote waved his hand at the men, "these gentlemen and the lovely Madame d'Artagnan ensconced upstairs were sent here to trap me."

"Yvain..." Abruptly stopped from saying anything further by the flare of anger igniting in the Comte's eyes, Milady held her tongue.

"I'll admit I had been taken in by your elaborate ruse." Delaflote chuckled despite the anger he felt, especially toward Milady. "So whom do you work for and what do you hope to gain from what was stolen from me?"

This was their only stroke of luck and they all realized it. Delaflote had no idea that they were working for the king of France. Perhaps this situation could be salvaged after all.

Noting that everyone was simply staring at each other not knowing how to respond to his question, Delaflote's lips tightened. "When you decide to come up with an answer that will satisfy me," he sneered, "then perhaps I'll let you know what I've done with Charles."

Before Alexandre could move Athos drew out his sword, the point rested against the Comte's neck. " _You... will... lead... us to... d'Artagnan... this instant!_ "

A loud bang then reverberated throughout the room. Followed by a low moan as blood blossomed from Athos' right shoulder.

Dropping his sword, legs feeling like jelly, if Aramis and Porthos hadn't taken each of his arms Athos' face would have kissed the floor. Pale and shaky, he was still able to glower at the person who had fired the pistol.

"Very good Felipe." Nodding to one of his servants, Delaflote thought perhaps now these people would realize that he meant business. Shortly after, two more of his retainers joined them and were also so armed. "Donato... Ernesto, keep your pistols trained on them," Delaflote ordered.

"Si, Senor." Donato eagerly responded first. Ernesto and Felipe appeared just as pleased to do the same.

"Spanish," Porthos exclaimed in disgust. "The lot of 'em." Busy trying to staunch the flow of blood coming from his friend's wound, Aramis could have cared less if the Comte's men had been Chinese. "The ball's still in Athos' shoulder. I need to get it out."

"What cha' need, Mis, and I'll get it for ya."

"None of you will move away from here until I get what I want!" Wrinkling his nose up in distaste at the blood dripping onto his floor, Delaflote was more concerned with the mess it was making than the wounded Musketeer. Whether Athos lived or died was of no consequence to him.

Grabbing hold of the Comte's arm, Milady held on tight. "You cannot be so callous as to not let Aramis treat him. That ball must come out!"

Running a finger down her cheek, Delaflote then drew back his hand an slapped her face with enough force to snap Milady's head back. "No one gives me orders in my own house!" he roared. Snapping fingers at his men Delaflote observed Donato drag her over to one side of the room, throwing her onto the sofa.

It hadn't escape his notice that Alexandre, and that giant of a man Porthos, had both stepped forward when he had struck Milady. But Felipe and Ernesto were ready to fire upon them if they tried anything. Which the Gascon and his bodyguard showed good sense to pay attention too.

Looking over at Aramis tending the other one, in a bored tone Delaflote said, "For the sake of my floor forever being stained with the blood of your man," he chuckled, "you have my consent to remove the ball from his shoulder."

"Athos, mon ami," Aramis removed his brother's shirt, "this is going to hurt me more than it would you."

Trying to control his breathing, Athos looked askance at the marksman. "That's... that's the best you... have to offer... me?" Finding a piece of leather stuffed into his mouth, the rest of his words were muffled.

"That's a sneaky way ta shut 'im up, Mis." Standing over the chair, where Athos' sat, Porthos had his hands braced on his brother's shoulders to anchor him in place when Aramis went digging around for that ball.

"Whatever works." Muttering to himself Aramis snatched the supplies he needed from a female servant that had approached him. "S'pose you're Spanish too."

"Si, senor," she spoke softly. Seeing the handsome one scowling up at her, Bonita backed away.

"This whole place must be swarmin' with 'em." Porthos could now understand how the whelp may have been caught out.

"We'll deal with all of that later." Tuning everyone out, Aramis began to help his eldest brother.

Anxious to know what happened to his only child and yet worried over the Musketeer's injury, Alexandre's concern grew upon thinking of Francoise all alone upstairs ignorant of what was happening down here.

"Mon Dieu!"

Listening to Aramis, Porthos and Alexandre both thought things had worsened for Athos.

"Now what?" Peering down into Athos' pained features, Porthos' gaze shifted to Aramis who now appeared whiter than their friend.

"I forgot to give Athos something to drink to dull the pain."

"Ain't the first time 'e's done it cold sober." Still gripping Athos' shoulder's, Porthos knew that Aramis took every injury he treated to heart. Sometimes it worried Porthos because it appeared to him that Aramis burdened himself with the pain of others until it was within his power to help them.

"And I sincerely doubt our host is feeling generous enough to oblige you with a bottle of his finest anyway," Alexandre added.

The leather between his teeth barely muffled Athos' cries, making even Milady cringe. When Aramis had dug the ball out he then went about cleaning the damaged flesh again. "It needs stitching." No sooner had those words spilled from his lips when Porthos handed Aramis thread and needle. "Merci, mon frere."

"I'm amazed Athos remained awake." Shaking his head, Alexandre couldn't help admiring the man's strength. The blood loss alone would have caused some to lose consciousness. If it had been him, Alexandre wasn't so sure he would have held up so well.

With the leather strip removed now, Athos licked dry lips. "I... I re... refuse to become... senseless until... I hear what... they've done with... d'Artagnan."

Humbled and pleased by Athos' words, Alexandre knew that when the time eventually presented itself he would be honored to hand Charles over to this man's care. Into all of the inseparable's care, Alexandre amended. Now he knew what made Jean-Armand so proud of them.

Finished with waiting for Aramis to stitch the wound, Delaflote's patience was at an end. "One of you knows what I'm talking about and I soon expect to be appeased." Arching one brow, Delaflote stabbed them all with a look that boded ill for anyone wanting to defy him. "Or else I'll have my men shoot someone else." Jerking his head toward Milady, Delaflote got his meaning across to the other men that she'd be the next casualty.

"If'n we knew what ya wanted right about now I don't think I'd be in the mood ta give it ta ya," Porthos spat, glancing down at Athos who was giving his best impression of a man trying not to pass out. "But I do know what I'd like ta give ya."

"If you're shocked by what I say," Delaflote snickered, "then you obviously haven't paid attention to who I am." Knowing that these men had completely understood that Milady was the next target, Delaflote felt he held all the cards in this game. Noting Alexandre's mouth working dearly wanting to speak but for some reason holding himself back, Delaflote inclined his head. "Go on," he urged. "Say what's on your mind."

"I want proof first that Charles is alive before we take things further." Voice trembling with suppressed rage, Alexandre's earlier pledge to himself still held. If his son did not come out of this alive then the Comte would pay with his life.

++++

_Note:_

_Quote: "If you're shocked by what I say, then you obviously haven't paid attention to who I am."_ Is another Aunty Acid line.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Left off with Alexandre wanting proof that his son's still alive_

"Alas," Delaflote smiled charmingly, "I cannot offer you that because the boy's not on my estate any longer."

"Where did you take him?" Held back from throttling the smug batard, Alexandre struggled against Porthos' strength.

"Now's not the time," Porthos growled softly in Alexandre's ear.

Shrugging Porthos' hands off, Alexandre calmed himself. "For the moment I shall have to take your _word_ for it. Right now I have to go inform my wife what has been going on."

"I should feel insulted that you do not _trust_ me," Delaflote snorted. Noting the rise of one eyebrow, he refrained from pushing Alexandre further. "But I do grow impatient for my stolen papers." Locking eyes with the one that Felipe shot, Delaflote could see that the man was in a great deal of pain. Yet Athos remained on his feet, whereas most other men would have been laid low. Grudgingly, Delaflote admired the man's determination.

Noting that Alexandre hadn't handed over their prize, Aramis winged it. "It would seem that we are at an impasse, Comte," he dipped his head. "We do not have what you seek and have no knowledge of its loss." When Alexandre nodded at him, Aramis knew that he had done and said the correct thing.

"I shall give you time to come to your senses," Delaflote said. "Until then Charles will remain my guest elsewhere." Observing Alexandre turning his back on him, Delaflote frowned at the action. As his guest took the staircase up to see Francoise, he decided not to have the man punished for his lack of manners. Perhaps Alexandre's beautiful wife could make the man see reason. Not knowing for whom they all worked would be something else Delaflote wanted to discover. All in good time he thought. All in good time.

++++

_Paris - Cour des Miracles_

His head was killing him as d'Artagnan tried to blink his eyes open. At least he thought they were open, because all that surrounded him was darkness. The last thing d'Artagnan remembered was slipping that document under the door and then going to his own room. Mon Dieu! He prayed that Zaru was all right, keenly feeling the loss of his Capuchin's tail curled around his neck. His pet's chatter too was greatly missed.

Hands tied in back of him d'Artagnan's shoulders also ached from the strain, while drums beat a nasty tattoo on the back of his skull. Tilting his head off to the side he caught sounds of coarse laughter, not too far from where he laid on the ground. Inhaling nothing but stale air, and not a hint of a breeze against his skin, d'Artagnan figured he was inside a building.

If only his head didn't pain him so then d'Artagnan could think more coherently. Blackness still was his companion but for how long? That was one of the questions that concerned him the most. The other was who had taken him and for what nefarious purpose?

Straining to remember more, there was something in the back of d'Artagnan's mind nagging him. Something just beyond his reach. _Voices_... _words_ that he recognized... _SPANISH!_ That was it! He hadn't time to tell his parents about it. Now everything began to make sense.

His poor parents were probably frantic with worry. Perhaps this was how it ended for d'Artagnan. Not being able to see hindered escape of any sort, unless there was someone about that would take pity on him and help set d'Artagnan free. Yeah, he snorted to himself, and horses could fly.

Missing his parents and Zaru more than he could say, d'Artagnan feared he would never see his godfather Uncle Jean again either. Seventeen years of age was too young to lose his life, and d'Artagnan wasn't ready to meet the grim reaper. " _I refuse to die_ ," he muttered softly. Then repeated it louder and louder until the words bounced off the walls of his prison, echoing in the silence. " _I REFUSE TO DIE!_ "

"What the deuce is all the racket about?" Entering the room where they put the boy, Severin's furious gaze fell on their young Gascon captive. It wasn't his place to question the hand that fed him, but he was curious as to why they had to hide the kid away. Watching the youngster's head swivel in his direction, Severin felt like something wasn't right. Seemed like the kid was having a hard time focusing on his position, seeing the boy's eyes roaming the room.

"Eh, Sev, what was the noise?"

"Don't rightly know myself, Carreau."

Seeing the boy shaking his head and squinting his eyes, Carreau stepped off to the right. When the youngster's eyes didn't follow him, he tested a theory. Walking right up to the kid Carreau waved his hand in front of the lad's face, not surprised at the lack of reaction. Feeling the presence of Sev at his side, he snorted. "Kid can't see."

"Hmmmm." Rubbing his chin, Severin gazed down at the young man. "Probably from that lump on the back of his head."

Wanting to have some fun, Carreau chuckled. "Hey, kid, don't take life too seriously, it's not like you're going to get out alive."

"Carreau," irritated by his friend's words, Severin clapped the other man's shoulder, "we're not supposed to hurt him."

"That's if he behaves himself." With Carreau's rough laughter filling the room, both men left the boy alone.

++++

_Back at Comte Delaflote's chateau_

"Quit moving your shoulder like that, Athos!"

"I do not want it to stiffen up on me, Aramis!" retorted Athos grumpily.

"And I don't want you to ruin my excellent needlework," Aramis snapped back.

"Will you two _ladies_ quit your jabberin'?" Rolling his dark eyes, Porthos worried about more important problems. Like their missing whelp and how the d'Artagnan's wanted to play this out.

Rotating his shoulder against orders, Athos winced in pain again while ignoring Aramis' dark scowl. Deeply concerned over the pup, he still tried to maintain a sense of humor or else he would lose it completely. Oui, he knew many thought he was incapable of even understanding a jest even if it hit him in the face. "Starting on the morrow - whatever life throws at me I am going to duck - so it hits someone else."

Both Porthos and Aramis glanced at their eldest brother in shock. Then, despite the gravity of their situation, Porthos let out a deep full belly laugh which set Aramis off as well.

Placing his hand on Athos' left shoulder Aramis gave it a gentle shake. "Didn't think you had it in you, mon ami."

"You and Porthos have been bad influences on me," Athos muttered but with a bright sparkle in his blue eyes.

" _Silencio!_ " Donato shouted, waving his pistol back and forth from one man to the other.

Stepping forward, a feral smile on his swarthy features, Porthos wanted to smash his fist in Donato's face.

" _Bastardo!_ " His spittle landing on the dark one's right cheek made Donato laugh wickedly.

"Ah now," Porthos kept moving closer to the Spaniard, "sticks and stones may break my bones... but my foot up your ass is really goin' ta hurt."

Slowly backing away from the giant, Donato kept a steady grip on his weapon. Not having orders from the Comte to hurt any of them further, he hesitated in firing.

"I'll tell ya what," Porthos growled low. "If'n the whelp's 'urt when we get 'im back I'll hold ya down while Alexandre chokes the life outta you, Delaflote and the other Spanish scum in the Comte's service."

"So too shall I." Joining his friend, Athos donned his best Comte de la Fere glower.

"Do leave something for me to do, gentlemen" Aramis huffed. "I mean after all of you have at them there will be nothing left for me but to pick up the pieces." Grinning like an idiot, Aramis simply dipped his head at the Spaniard.

Thinking these three were loco in the head, Donato backed completely away from them.

++++

_The d'Artagnan's room_

Kissing the top of Francoise' head, Alexandre pulled her to him running a hand soothingly up and down her back. While jumping up and down on the corner of the bed, Zaru screeched his displeasure.

"What are we going to do, Alexandre?" Nestling her head into the comfort of her husband's warm chest, Francoise refused to let her tears fall as fright for Charles was slowly overtaking her.

Resting his chin on top of her head Alexandre drew in an uneven breath, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Thinking upon it, he didn't know how to proceed. Acting like they didn't know what Delaflote was going on about wasn't going to cut it for very long and Alexandre was quite aware of that.

Following the dictates of their hearts, Alexandre would willingly give the Comte want he dearly wanted. But therein lies the rub. Hearts didn't come into the matter. They worked for Louis and the monarchy. Allegiance to His Majesty and the country of their birth demanded that they couldn't simply hand over the document to Delaflote.

Making the Comte think they worked for a different faction, and would strike up a bargain with Delaflote, may work more in their favor. For if the Comte found out the truth, fear of Louis' wrath would determine the man's actions. If that were the case, then Alexandre was certain that Delaflote wouldn't hesitate to order his servants to kill them all swiftly and ruthlessly. But deceiving the Comte may yet save all their lives and that of Charles' as well.

Another matter, to add to an ever growing list, was the fact that none of them knew how many Spaniards actually worked for Delaflote. There were four that they knew of and many more could be hidden within the estate. "Ah, Ma chere," lightly kissing her brow Alexandre then got up from the bed, "you might as well join us downstairs now that we have been found out." While waiting for his wife, Alexandre caught the bouncing Capuchin in his arms. Settling Zaru onto his left shoulder he then took Francoise' by the arm. "Now, mon coeur, we've a game to play."

++++

_Back to the Cour des Miracles_

She never trusted those two. They were forever getting into and causing trouble for the Court. One of her young runners, Julien, had come to her claiming to have seen Severin and Carreau dragging someone along with them. If those two imbeciles brought more trouble here, Flea would permanently kick their asses out of the Court.

Knowing where they lived it wasn't hard for Flea to locate them. None of the places that they could call home had working doors with locks, which made it much easier to slip in and out of. So it was that she found herself in the darkened room. Spinning around in a circle Flea cast her eyes over the place... stopping at the sound of a young voice.

++++

_Notes:_

_Cour des Miracles_ \- Court of Miracles

 _Quote: "Don't take life too seriously, it's not like you're going to get out alive."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Starting tomorrow - whatever life throws at me I'm going to duck - so it hits someone else."_ Another line from Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "Sticks and stones may break my bones... but my foot up your ass is really going to hurt."_ Yeah Aunty Acid strikes again.

_Spanish translation:_

_Silencio_ \- Silence

 _Bastardo_ \- Bastard (it's really close to the French version of batard)

 _Loco_ \- Crazy


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, late morning – Cour des Miracles_

Whirling around at the sound, Flea stumbled slightly in the dimness of the room. The male voice didn’t belong to either Severin or Carreau and it sounded terribly young and frightened. Flea was able to make out a figure laying on the ground, gasping at the sight when she moved in closer. Immediately Flea looked around for some candles to light up the room.

Kneeling down in front of the young man, she tried not to scare him anymore than he already was and spoke softly. “I’m Flea, the one in charge around ‘ere.” Shrugging one slim shoulder, Flea had no idea the boy couldn't see the gesture. “Or at least I’m supposed ta be.” The lad wasn’t in the best of shape and in an uncomfortable position too. “Bend forward so I can untie you.” When she did that, the youngster tipped over sideways toward the floor. Lurching forward, Flea barely caught him in time. No need for him to worsen whatever injuries he may have already acquired on his arrival here.

“My… my thanks.” Shaking his head again, d’Artagnan hoped that it would clear up the reason he couldn’t see. Only thing it accomplished was to make the aching in his head worsen. “I’m d’Artagnan.” Pausing for a second, he tried to get his bearings. “When you said _in charge_ … of what may I ask?”

“The Cour des Miracles.”

“Not… that far… then,” he murmured.

“Not far from what?” Helping him stand up, Flea let the boy lean against her.

“From where… I… was taken.” Nothing but darkness still filled his vision. Gingerly touching the back of his head, d’Artagnan swore loudly. “Merde!”

Lightly feeling the goose egg there, Flea winced. “They really made sure ya were knocked out good and proper.” Seeing that d’Artagnan wasn’t really looking at her she gripped his arm, shaking it gently. “Hey are ya feelin’ sick?”

“Oui.” Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside of him, but d’Artagnan refused to fall apart. Feeling Flea’s soft puffs of breath on his neck reminded him that he wasn’t alone with enemies any longer. “I can’t see… Flea. Not a… damn… thing!”

Listening to d’Artagnan’s voice hitch on the last word, Flea knew the boy was fighting the urge to cry. Wanting to give him a ray of hope she said, “I’m takin’ ya back ta my place.”

“Think… think that’s going… to help?” Taking a firm hold of her hand, d’Artagnan let himself be led outside.

“I’m guessin’ that blow ta your ‘ead caused your problem. A cold compress ta that lump should ‘elp the swellin’ ta go down some.” Steering d’Artagnan down the path to her home, Flea had to take most of the youngster’s weight. Which for her slight frame was a bit of a struggle. He kept apologizing every time he lost his balance making d’Artagnan nearly fall on top of Flea. “Stop that,” she softly reprimanded. “Ya can’t help it none.”

"Flea, I have... to get back to... my parents."

"One thing at a time, d'Artagnan." Judging by the clothes the boy wore, Flea figured his family was well to do. Which is probably why those two buffoons kidnapped him in the first place. It was only a short distance to walk to where she lived. Arriving there Flea ushered the youngster inside, making him sit down on a rickety old chair that looked like it had fallen apart and was put back together haphazardly. "Let me see if I can reduce that swellin'."

++++

_Comte Delaflote's Chateau - main room_

It had been a tense situation for the inseparables, while waiting for Alexandre to return. Athos was a long way off from being fine but after having been stitched up, and allowed to lay down upon the sofa, the pain from his wound was slowly easing. With the calamity of being shot behind him, Athos wondered where they proceeded from here.

When the d'Artagnan's entered the room together, Aramis and Porthos were very much relieved to see them. Of course their Spanish guards never swerved from making sure they were covered from all angles with weapons. So it made the idea of rushing the Comte's servants something of a problem. Having discussed this with each other, neither of them wanted the women to end up getting hurt in the melee that would surely follow any escape attempt. God alone knew that Francoise and Milady could well protect themselves, still it grated on Porthos and Aramis that the women would have too. Though Porthos had remarked that he wasn't so sure that Athos cared what became of his former wife, which for some strange reason didn't sit well with Aramis.

Noting Anne acting so docile made Athos want to laugh out loud. She didn't have a _docile_ bone in her lovely body. Playing it this way gave her time to come up with her own plan. He just prayed that she would go along with whatever Alexandre and Francoise had come up with. Assuming that they had come up with anything to get them all out of this mess with their skins intact.

When Francoise spotted Athos she immediately went over to check on his condition, clucking like a mother hen over his injury. When she had been assured by both Aramis and Athos that he would live to wield a sword another day, Francoise went to sit by Milady.

"To think everything I did these past few weeks went for naught," Milady bitterly complained to Francoise.

"I'm quite sure you enjoyed every minute of your time with the Comte," muttered Athos from the comfort of the sofa, having heard Anne's words.

"Hmmpf!" Since Athos was laying down he couldn't see the anger that burned hotly in Milady's green eyes. Glancing at Francoise, she tilted her head closer to the older woman's. "Mmmmm," Milady smacked her lips together. "I don't know who I'd rather shoot more... _Yvain_ or _Athos_."

Struggling to sit up, Athos glowered at her from over the top of the sofa. "You do know it was my shoulder that was injured... not my hearing?" 

Ignoring him, Milady observed the Capuchin being unusually subdued. "How is Zaru?" she asked Francoise.

"He's missing my son." Feeling her hand gently squeezed by Milady, Francoise reciprocated the gesture. "As do I."

"Of course." Even being sympathetic to the d'Artagnan's loss, right now Milady needed to know if someone had come up with a viable plan to get them all out of here without spilling their own blood. She could care less if Yvain laid dead at her feet. He was a terrible lover anyway.

Having briefly left the room when Alexandre went to speak with his wife, Delaflote had just came back when he noted and acknowledged the presence of Francoise. "You played a most charming invalid," he chuckled. "I fear the stage has lost a promising actress."

Locking eyes with her husband, Francoise smiled at Alexandre. "Non, it didn't."

"Be that as it may," eyeing the monkey cradled in Alexandre's arms, Delaflote didn't trust the creature, "have you come to a decision that I will like?"

"Tis as you thought." Admitting to Delaflote that he had been lied too, Alexandre began weaving a tale that he hoped the Comte fell for. "We do have your document." Noting Francoise' anxiousness, he silently sent a quick prayer to God that this ruse would save Charles' life and theirs as well. "Our employer found out that you were working with Spanish agents."

"Ramon Catalina to be precise," Francoise joined in.

"We were to procure the proof of your treasonous behavior and deliver it into our employer's hands." Climbing up on his shoulder, Zaru settled there curling a long tail around Alexandre's neck. Sadness grew deep inside him, knowing that the Capuchin only did that with Charles.

"What was supposed to happen after that?" Looking first at Alexandre then back again to Francoise, Delaflote let his natural curiosity take over.

"He was going to blackmail you with it." With a casual raise of one brow Alexandre studied the Comte's face, concerned that the web of lies he was stringing together sounded plausible.

"Your employer won't have to worry about that any longer since I've spoiled your plans," Delaflote chuckled. Holding out his hand, he wriggled his fingers. "My papers, if you will."

"Ah!" Smiling, Alexandre's eyes slid toward Porthos and Aramis who were standing protectively over their wounded comrade. "You give us Charles first... an even trade I believe."

"Then we shall be on our way like that." Snapping her fingers, Francoise fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"You take me for a fool?" Snarling, like a trapped animal, Delaflote was not pleased with the way this was going.

"Tis a rather loaded question, Monsieur." Amusement danced in Aramis' dark eyes, while observing the Comte's face turn beet red. The man's color worsened even further, when Porthos snorted his agreement.

"As I see it you haven't a leg to stand on!" Delaflote angrily retorted. "Any of you!" Beckoning his men forward, he watched Felipe, Donato and Ernesto joined by four other armed men. Signaling to all of them they surrounded the room. Smirking, Delaflote would show them who was giving the orders around here. "As I was saying." He left the rest unsaid, knowing his meaning was quite obvious.

"So you expect us to simply hand it over without you giving us our son back?" Exchanging a quick look with his wife, Alexandre knew she'd continue to follow his script.

"That sums it up quite nicely." Thinking the d'Artagnan's were going to capitulate, Delaflote began to breathe easier. True he and his men outnumbered the other gentlemen in the room but he didn't underestimate them. They were wily enough to still have a few tricks up their sleeves. Believing women inferior, he didn't bother thinking Milady or Francoise to be a dangerous proposition.

"Your _math_ is in error then." Responding smartly, Francoise nudged Milady in the side. The latter's eyes had strayed toward Athos and Francoise wasn't able to read the expression in them. Focusing back on Delaflote, her chin jutted out. "We are not simpletons. As soon as you get your precious papers you'll have us all killed."

"My wife is correct." Dipping his head at her, Alexandre was silently sending her a message of _well done_. "Now I will tell _you_ , Monsieur Comte, how it will be."

"I think not!" Blustering, Delaflote realized he was fast losing control of the situation.

"If we don't turn up _alive..."_ Interrupted, Alexandre waited to pick up the threads of his conversation.

"And relatively unharmed." Jerking her head toward Athos, Milady got her point across.

"Then our employer has vowed to arrange an audience with King Louis and expose you for the traitor you are." Ah! That got Delaflote where it hurt. Alexandre's plan may yet get them out of this alive.

As if the air had been sucked out of the room, Delaflote could barely breathe. He did not see this coming. "Your employer must value all of you greatly to do such a thing."

"We're just one big 'appy family." Grinning hugely, Porthos patted Athos on his brother's good shoulder. Throwing an arm around Aramis, bringing the man in tight, Porthos laughed. "Ain't that right, mes amis?"

"Tis exactly so." Returning the hug, Aramis glanced down at Athos.

Keeping a straight face, Athos was about to respond to the question but Zaru began chattering madly. He observed the Capuchin jump from Alexandre's shoulder over to where Francoise sat. "I believe Zaru's nerves are beginning to fray at the edges."

"As mine definitely are." Whispering her words to Milady, Francoise rocked Zaru back and forth like a petit bébé.

"This is how we shall proceed, Delaflote." The tone in Alexandre's voice brooked no argument. Wanting... non, needing the Comte to take him seriously he laid out his terms. "We shall meet you in a neutral area where you shall return Charles to us. Then we'll give you back your document and leave you in peace."

Not happy at this turn of events, Delaflote wondered how his efforts had backfired on him. He hated the thought of letting this go unchallenged. Though the alternative was far worse, if Alexandre's words held true. Their mysterious employer must be held in high esteem, that the king would lend an ear and believe the man's words. Which made his decision a swift one as Delaflote stiffly nodded his head. "It shall be as you say." Feeling as if the words were sticking in his throat, he went on to tell them of the meeting place. "There's a lake about half an hours ride from Paris. Tis easy enough to locate. We'll make the exchange on the morrow."

"Fine," Alexandre bit out. "What time?"

"Let's say near noon." Trying to make light of the way things had turned, Delaflote laughed. "It will give me a reason to have lunch in the city."

"Not far from Paris. I find that immensely interesting." Athos murmured softly. Glancing over at Aramis, needing to see if his brother felt the same as he, Athos noted the marksman dip his head slightly.

"They must be holding d'Artagnan somewhere back home." Exchanging a curious look with Porthos, Aramis knew his friend had heard and was thinking the same thing.

"Yvain's all nice and happy now." Grumbling sourly, Milady was indeed shocked when Zaru parted from Francoise to sit quietly on her lap. Up until now the monkey had appeared to have taken an instant dislike to Milady. So this was quite unexpected. "Must be a case of _the diable you know_ ," she quipped. Happy to have brought a smile to Francoise' face, absentmindedly Milady found herself stroking the Capuchin's back. Bending her head, she whispered to the top of the animal's head. "We may yet end up friends."

"Let's get our stuff and get the 'ell outta 'ere." Helping Athos gain his feet, Porthos gently clapped his brother on the back. "I'm allergic ta Spaniards ya know."

"My heart bleeds for you, Monsieur." Turning away from the group Delaflote had to make arrangements for the young Gascon to be transported to neutral territory on the morrow.

"I wasn't talkin' ta 'im," Porthos griped. Seeing Athos was unsteady on his legs, Porthos wrapped an arm around his friend's waist. Their progress was slow going, but with Aramis guarding their rear Porthos didn't fear being set upon by any damn Spanish!

Observing the Comte and the rest of Delaflote's Spanish staff emptying out of the room like them, Aramis' lips curled upward. "Some people are really such tresors... that you really just want to bury them."

"If you are referring to Delaflote," Athos grinned, despite the pain he was feeling, "I'd be the first one to shovel dirt on his coffin." When noting Aramis cross himself, Athos burst out laughing. Leaving poor Porthos having to hang onto him for fear that Athos would lose his footing and collapse.

++++

_Cour des Miracles_

"'Ow's the 'ead?" Standing over the boy, Flea's eyes hardened after listening to his story.

"It still ache's but not as much as before." Also d'Artagnan felt less shaky and that was thanks to Flea. Finding out he was again in Paris made him rethink his original idea. He'd get himself back to the Garrison and his Uncle Jean. From there he'd let His Majesty, Cardinal Richelieu and his godfather figure out how to safely proceed against Comte Delaflote.

"I can hear ya thinkin'," Flea teased. "Don't do too much of that with the size of that lump ya got. Ya need ta go nice and easy."

"Flea, can you get me to the Garrison?"

"Not the palace?" She was confused. The boy had told her that it was the king and cardinal that wanted to lay the trap for this Comte.

"My godfather is the Captain of the Musketeers there." Beginning to see a small glimmer of light filtering through, d'Artagnan prayed that meant his vision would clear up the more the injury to the back of his head lessened.

"Of course 'e is." This young man was just full of surprises. Discovering his parents were great friends of King Louis was bad enough. Finding out who d'Artagnan's godfather was made Flea wonder if the boy had close ties to Cardinal Richelieu also.

Feeling Flea was hesitating to answer his original question d'Artagnan said, "If tis money you need Uncle Jean would gladly pay you for bringing me to him." Since he was sitting down Flea must have bent her head to be on level with his own, feeling her breath on his face.

"Money wouldn't be turned away if it was offered," she remarked candidly. "But we're not looked too kindly on by some Musketeers and the Red Guard hate us." Though they certainly made use of the Court's young runners when necessary.

"I can personally vouch for the safety of anyone you send with me," d'Artagnan pleaded. "If I had my sight I wouldn't be asking."

That's when her heart ruled Flea's head. Those brown doe eyes of the lad had done her in. Plus she had the added incentive of possibly seeing someone who used to be dear to her. "Would Porthos be there?"

"Depends on what's going on since I've been taken." He had to be honest with her.

"I'll take ya myself," Flea declared. "I'll have a couple others come for protection." With determination filling her features, which sadly d'Artagnan couldn't see, Flea also had another thought preying on her mind. "Before we leave I want ta bring along the two imbeciles that hid ya 'ere." Punching the youngster lightly on his arm, Flea laughed. "It'll make a right nice present for your godfather captain."

++++

_Notes:_

_Tresors_ \- treasures

 _Quote: "Some people are really such treasures... that you really just want to bury them."_ \- by Aunty Acid.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note below.
> 
> ++++

_Same day around two p.m. or so - Garrison_

Watching over training exercises, Treville was pleased to note that his men would hold there own against any Red Guard that dared to challenge them. Not to mention any canailles or malandrins his Musketeers would encounter during their duties.

"Captain!" Running over to the training grounds, Rene took a moment to catch his breath.

"What is it, lad?" Observing Rene kept glancing over his shoulder, Treville craned his own neck to see if anything was amiss.

"D'Artagnan's back and a woman named Flea brought him." Pausing, Rene took in an unsettled expression crossing the captain's face. "Plus her own men are with her keeping guard on two others that she told me should be thrown into our Bastille." Feeling slightly guilty for leaving out the major issue regarding d'Artagnan, Rene couldn't bring himself to do it. Twas for Captain Treville to discover.

If his godson was here that meant something went drastically wrong during their mission. None of them were to make contact until the assignment had been finished. "Willame!" he called out to the older Musketeer. "Finish up here for me!" Receiving an affirmative nod and wave of understanding from the soldier, Treville quickly followed Rene. "Where are they?"

"Your office, sir."

Missions had gone bad before which made him wonder what the deuce had happened to this one. It was a scant few minutes later when Treville bid Renee au revoir and entered his office. Noting young d'Artagnan stiffly sitting upright in a chair near Treville's desk, a young woman standing by the lad's side, his heart missed a beat or two with concern. There were also two very large men standing back a ways, their arms wrapped around two others that appeared to have been roughed up. It was a curious group to be sure. Striding toward his godson, Treville was pleased to see that the boy didn't appear to be wounded.

"Ah, d'Artagnan." Perching on the edge of his desk Treville's eyes roamed over the other Gascon's face. Casually he asked, "Has something gone awry? And who are all these people?" One question followed the other, and he waited for the lad to respond. It was then that the contents of his lunch turned sour in Treville's stomach. Realizing that his godson's eyes weren't tracking him properly, he glanced at the blonde haired woman for answers to Treville's unspoken questions.

"Flea's the name."

"She's in charge of the Court, Uncle Jean."

"The youngster's right." Studying the captain's coloring, Flea began comparing it to d'Artagnan's. So it seemed the Musketeer captain was a Gascon also. Looking into the older man's eyes, she deemed them trustworthy and began to relax.

"If you don't mind my impertinence," Treville slowly drawled, "you don't appear much older than d'Artagnan."

"I'm the same age as Porthos," Flea mumbled back. "'E's a Musketeer 'ere."

Lips curled upward at her statement, Treville nodded. Knowing that Porthos was in his late twenties as was Aramis, still his original thought upon her age held. Flea reminded him of a young pixie. "Then you must be Porthos' friend that lends us the runners we use."

"Yeah, that's me," she answered somewhat wryly. "I gotta heart of gold I do."

The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable but Treville let it slide. "Care to explain d'Artagnan's predicament?"

"I can speak for myself, Uncle!" d'Artagnan snapped. Listening to the silence that followed, he felt uncomfortable at his outburst. "Apologies. I've had better days."

"Go on, son," Treville urged. "Explain what happened then I'll ask about the men that came with you and Flea."

It wasn't a very long tale d'Artagnan told his godfather. When finished, he had to overcome the emotion that washed over him.

"What can you see?" His voice gruff, Treville could only imagine the worry Alexandre and Francoise were going through at this moment. Which escalated the need for prompt action on his part.

"Tis more what _I cannot see_." Hissing, when d'Artagnan touched the lump again, he swore. " _Merde!_ " Giving a mirthless laugh he said, "Despite my reaction it has gotten better after Flea kept applying cold compresses to the sizeable lump I had acquired."

"You didn't answered my question though." D'Artagnan was good at dodging answers he didn't want to respond too, but Treville needed to know the extent of the damage to the lad's vision.

"I've started seeing bits of light and shadow now." Tilting his head toward the sound of his uncle's voice, d'Artagnan felt better knowing his godfather was near him.

Fingering his mustache Treville gazed down upon the boy's bent head. "I'm going to personally escort you back to the palace after being introduced to these other men."

"Those two buffoons be Carreau and Severin," Flea happily supplied. "And your Bastille's welcome ta keep 'em there forever for all I care." Turning an angry face toward the two idiots that were forever causing problems for Flea and her people, she stood directly in front of them. "You're both poor excuses of manhood. Nothin' but trouble since ya both settled in my Court."

"Aw, Miss Flea," turning a pitiful looking face on her, Severin pleaded, or tried too, "it was Carreau's idea to take the Comte's money and hide the kid."

"Now it's all my fault!" growled Carreau at his partner in crime. "If I remember correctly you were just as eager for the money as I was."

As the bickering continued, ignoring it Treville gently took the young woman's arm to pull her aside. "What of your men's names?" He nearly called them hulking brutes. They were both similar in build to Porthos. Good thing Treville hadn't said that out loud, they may have taken it as an insult.

"The one holdin' Severin is Facet and the other's Simon," she chuckled. "They do come in handy for their size alone." Remembering the reactions those two could instill within others, Flea gave an unladylike snort. Then again, she never claimed to be a lady.

Approaching the two giants, Treville studied them up close. "Would you gents mind following my Musketeers so we could deposit Carreau and Severin in the Bastille?"

"Be more than 'appy ta." Tightening his grip on Carreau, Simon grinned showing off a huge gap between his teeth.

"Like Flea said," Simon's smile too showed that he had been in one too many fights as well, "Good for nothin' they are. We don't need more excuses for the Red Guards ta make our lives more miserable than they be."

It was then that Treville reached inside his desk to retrieve a large pouch of coins. Placing it in Flea's slim hand he closed her fingers around it. "Tis to be hoped that what's in there will go a long way to improve matters." Arching an eyebrow, Treville locked eyes with her. "There's more where that came from and with your approval perhaps we could come to an understanding that would be profitable for all of us."

Staring at the pouch, she felt the weight of it and was shocked at the generosity Flea had just received. "Just send Porthos along with the place and time so we can discuss things."

"Merci." Dipping his head in thanks, Treville moved around to d'Artagnan's side. "Now let's get you to bed and have Antoine give you a once over."

"Stop fussing, Uncle Jean!" Shakily standing back up, vaguely making out a dark silhouette d'Artagnan reached out managing to grab hold of a wrist. Feeling the slight bones beneath his fingers, he knew it was Flea. "I'm sorry Porthos wasn't here or my uncle would have sent for him already."

Squeezing the youngster's hand she smiled, not sure if d'Artagnan could actually see it or not. "There's always next time. Just make sure ya tell 'im I said 'ello."

Feeling the heat of her body, d'Artagnan knew how close she stood near him. Taking a chance he wouldn't miss, he leaned forward to place a kiss upon her cheek. "I won't forget to tell Porthos." Bowing slightly he added, "You have my undying gratitude for the timely rescue as well."

Blushing, Flea gently pushed the boy away and walked over to the captain's side. "Make sure 'e rests. Kid's 'ad a rough go of it."

With a nod in her direction Treville went to the window and shouted for several Musketeers. "Basot! Gefrei! My office! Now!"

The men rushed into the room all worried they were in trouble, though nothing came to mind that they would have done. Standing at attention Captain Treville gave them their orders.

Watching his men lead Simon and Facet, along with the prisoners, out the door he turned back to Flea. "It may be awhile until they come back. Unless you care to wait I'll arrange an escort for your safe return to the Court."

Laughing, Flea shook her head. "I know those streets better than your own Musketeers, Captain. I'll get back on my own just fine."

Thinking that the young woman probably was correct, Treville allowed a slight smile to grace his face. "You left out the Red Guard."

"Ha! They couldn't find their way out of the Palais-Cardinal." Hearing the captain's shout of laughter set Flea's off again. With a sassy wink at Treville, she went to leave.

"See ya later, d'Artagnan." Breezing out the door, Flea's last look at the young Gascon squinting his eyes trying to see her better almost made her stay put. With others depending on her, Flea couldn't stay here indefinitely.

After the door clicked shut, d'Artagnan felt Uncle Jean's hand grip his shoulder. "Now to the palace with you."

++++

_Comte Delaflote's chateau_

" _WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE BOY CAN'T BE FOUND?_ " Furious Delaflote lashed out at Bolivar, sharply slapping the man in the face. " _EXPLAIN!_ " he barked.

"Estavan and I went back to the Court and couldn't locate the two men we hired to hold d'Artagnan."

" _THEIR NAMES!_ " If Delaflote ever found them, they were dead men.

"Severin and Carreau." Officially Bolivar and the others that were employed by Ramon Catalina worked for the ambassador, however they were under orders to obey Comte Delaflote in all things. Seeing the Comte losing his temper in this manner, Bolivar was frightened for his own life.

"Do you believe they may have taken the Gascon somewhere else and are going to do their own bargaining with us?" If he wasn't pressed for time, Delaflote would have paid a visit personally at the Court of Miracles.

"No, Comte. They didn't leave much of an impression with us that they had enough intelligence between them to carry out a plan of their own."

"And yet those were the fools you and Estavan decided to put in charge of guarding the youngster!" Disgusted, pushing Bolivar away, Delaflote wished he had his pistol on him. He'd blow his man's brains out and then Estavan's next. " _IMBECILES! THE LOT OF YOU!_ Now I have nothing left to bargain with!" Swearing, Delaflote pounded his fist on the wall. " _MERDE!_ I'll never got my hands on that document!"

"Maybe we could dress Alejo up in a similar style to the boy. At a distance the d'Artagnan's may believe it is their son." When the Comte turned on him, Bolivar backed away in fear Delaflote would kill him.

"In less time that it takes to say the name _d'Artagnan_ ," the anger in Delaflote's eyes mounted, "that creature of theirs would know it wasn't the young Gascon!" Striking Bolivar once again, he marched away shouting orders over his shoulder. " _GO BACK TO THE COURT AND FIND THEM OR DON'T BOTHER COMING BACK AT ALL!_ "

++++

_Royal Palace - outside the room given to d'Artagnan_

Before going inside to see Charles, Their Majestys, Cardinal Richelieu and Captain Treville all stood in front of the double doors leading to where the young man rested.

"What did Antoine have to say after checking Charles over?" This was something that none of them could have foreseen. D'Artagnan was the very last person King Louis would have wanted anything to happen too. Grasping his wife's hand, he held on tightly.

"As the swelling lessens," slapping his chapeau against his thigh, Treville let his frustration show, "the lad's eyesight should return." He ran his fingers through what was left of his thinning hair. Much more of this type of thing and Treville wouldn't have anymore to bother with. "As of right now he's seeing some light and people appear as shadows."

"It sounds promising." Standing between her husband and the captain, Queen Anne silently promised herself to visit the chapel as soon as possible to pray for the boy. "Do you not think so, Cardinal?"

"I won't be happy until Charles can see me with his own eyes." Lifting both eyebrows, arms folded, a stern expression adorned his features.

"Their Majestys and I feel the same," Treville growled. "But do not go in there with that attitude or you will scare d'Artagnan." Receiving a grunt from Richelieu in response to his warning, Treville opened the door.

++++

Quietly the trio entered the room to stand at the foot of the bed.

To keep the pressure off the receding lump d'Artagnan laid on his stomach, his face turned to the side with eyes closed. However he wasn't asleep and heard the sound of people entering. Sniffing the air d'Artagnan instantly knew who his visitors were. "I'd get up but I'm only in my night shirt, Your Majestys... Cardinal... Uncle Jean."

"How, how did he know it was us?" Staring at his companions, King Louis was amazed. "Charles wasn't even looking at us."

For the first time since d'Artagnan opened his eyes to darkness a smile stretched his lips wide. Turning on his back he slowly sat up. "The smell of leather gave my uncle away." Listening to his godfather chuckle at that d'Artagnan drew up his legs, wrapping his arms around them.

"What of myself and the queen?" King Louis shared an amused look with his wife.

"Ah, you both carried the scent of the gardens upon your persons." Straining his eyes, d'Artagnan tried to make out their forms. The young monarchs appeared as mere shadows, as had Flea and the others. The difference this time was that the figures were surrounded by a white halo. He didn't know what that meant, trying very hard not to worry if it was good or bad.

Clapping his hands together, King Louis was astounded. "Marvelous!"

"Your other senses are making up for the lack of vision," Richelieu murmured, to which the others appeared to agree.

"But what of the cardinal, Charles?" Curious, Queen Anne wanted to know how the lad had registered that the cardinal was with them.

"Oh he was the easiest of all," d'Artagnan grinned. "You must have been at church, Cardinal Richelieu, because I smelled incense the moment you stepped into the room."

"Excellent! Quite astute." Congratulating the young Gascon on a new skill, sadly acquired through a most unfortunate accident, Richelieu remarked, "It will help you go far in the family business."

"Actually I'd like to train to become a Musketeer." Grimacing, d'Artagnan wasn't sure if that was a vocation that he'd be able to do if his sight wasn't restored.

"We do have spies amongst our regiment," King Louis gleefully boasted. "Charles would be a most welcome addition."

"What does your père have to say?" Not thinking Alexandre would welcome the boy's change of occupation, Richelieu glanced over catching Treville's smug face. Ah! The captain wasn't a bit surprised it would seem.

"And your maman?" Queen Anne added, as this was the first time she too had heard the boy's change of heart.

"I haven't really mentioned anything to them." Sighing d'Artagnan laid back in bed then yelped in pain that the action caused, forgetting the back of his skull was still very tender. Turning on his side, he spoke softly. "I doubt it will come as much of a surprise though."

Noting the smirk still spreading on Treville, King Louis grinned showing off a full set of blinding white teeth. "I remember the times when you were younger and visited with us. My old fox began teaching you how to handle a blade at only eight years of age."

"With instruction also from papa." Remembering those pleasant days growing up, d'Artagnan had felt he had been the luckiest boy in the world.

"The lad showed much promise even then." More than proud of his godson's accomplishments, Treville prayed d'Artagnan's eyesight returned to the way it was before.

"Mmmmm." Stroking his goatee, Richelieu understood that Alexandre and Francoise couldn't stop the inevitable. Nor could any of them. "I only have one thing to say." The boy wasn't looking in his direction, still Richelieu couldn't resist. Spinning around in a circle, spreading his cape wide, he announced his opinion. "D'Artagnan would look better in red."

++++

_Note:_

Don't worry, if nothing goes wrong, the exchange will take place next chapter. More fireworks and perhaps another Musketeer or two may yet get hurt.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guys, just don't shoot me. LOL!  
> I've aggravated my lower back again and since I suffer with Fibromyalgia it's really hurting and I can't sit for long periods of time. Already had two treatments for it from my chiropractor this week. Good thing it was my vacation but I'll be starting work again on Tues. Ugh! This would have to happen!  
> I so wanted this to be the fireworks part but I can't sit much longer and need to stand up for a time. I penned this out by hand a few days ago and it came out way longer than I thought so I do have the fight sequences for next chapter. Sorry Lady_Neve, you'll just have to wait a bit longer.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Much later in the same day - King Louis' chambers_

"Send them in immediately! And someone get Cardinal Richelieu here!" Observing the young page in his rush to leave bang face first into the door, nearly knocking himself out, King Louis rolled his eyes.

The page managed to collect himself, holding the door open for the king's visitors to enter, he then slipped out of the room to carry on with his important errand.

Eyeing the d'Artagnan's, the first to come in, King Louis was satisfied they appeared none the worse for wear. As did Aramis and Porthos. The same couldn't be said of Athos, noting Treville's lieutenant's arm in a sling. Then there was Milady covertly giving side looks at Athos, King Louis couldn't quite put his finger on it but had a feeling there was something between them. Perhaps he would unravel it later. Walking in a circle around them, he clasped his hands behind his back. "There are many things I want to ask but I believe," King Louis glanced at the quiet Capuchin on Alexandre's shoulder, "there is someone here that I'm sure you'd like to meet."

"Louis!" Cursing, banging into the desk when Alexandre went to follow the king out, he managed to snag the sleeve of the young monarch's jacket. "Delaflote is holding Charles hostage! We don't have time to meet with anyone!"

Pausing Louis turned around, his understanding look settled on his old friend Alexandre. "Come with me." Waving them on, his reluctant procession followed him down the long corridor. Holding up a hand for everyone to stop they found themselves in front of a set of double doors.

"Really, Louis!" Over three hours to get back to the palace on horses that had originally driven their carriage, Francoise was not in the mood. It wouldn't have been so bad except they all had to ride double. The stable hands at the Comte's estate, much to her surprise, gave them an extra mount for Porthos to share with their coachman Abney. Tired, sweaty, and not up to Louis' antics, all Francoise wanted was her son back.

"Before we go in." Reaching out King Louis plucked Zaru from Alexandre's shoulder passing the monkey to one of his startled guards. "Much better." Noting the bewildered looks he was getting, King Louis explained. "Zaru would be too noisy." Facing his guard again, he smartly tapped the man's arm. "Do not be overly concerned. The Capuchin won't hurt you." Then placing a finger against his lips, encouraging them to be quiet, King Louis opened the door. Leaning back against it, he observed the group come to an abrupt halt upon noting the slim figure under the bedding fast asleep.

Covering her mouth with both hands, Francoise' eyes teared up. "Charles," she whispered. Spinning around to gaze into Louis' pleased face, Francoise couldn't get her throat to work properly.

But Alexandre had no problem doing so, keeping his voice low. "When did Charles arrive? Better yet how did he get here in the first place? According to Delaflote the Comte's men were holding our son captive someplace."

"Tis rather involved." Finger once more going to his lips, Louis hushed his friend. Waving his hand once more he led them all back out of the room. Closing the door behind him Louis could see questions on Alexandre and Francoise' faces.

Noting the inseparables were just as curious, King Louis walked over to his largest Musketeer. "Porthos, I understand from my old fox that a young woman named of Flea brought the boy to the Garrison."

Nudging Porthos in the side, Aramis smirked. "Didn't I say that she was still sweet on you."

Speechless, Porthos continued to listen to his king.

"It appeared that Comte Delaflote procured the services of two men from the Court." About to be interrupted by Athos, King Louis held up his hand for silence. "They are both in our Bastille as we speak." Still addressing Porthos, he continued. "Your Flea brought them back here along with our young Gascon. Quite a resourceful friend you have there, Porthos."

" _Resourceful's_ one way of describin' 'er." He spoke those words low not wanting His Majesty to catch them.

"They held the lad in the Court until Charles was discovered by Flea. Then she helped him get back to us." Drawing closer to Francoise and Alexandre, Louis' eyes softened. "Unfortunately when Delaflote's men rendered the boy unconscious they struck his head quite hard."

"Whenever someone starts out a sentence with _unfortunately_ ," Francoise exchanged a frightened look with her husband, "it never ends well."

Clearing his throat, Louis picked up the threads of his conversation. "Bien, Charles's vision has become impaired because of the blow. Though Antoine's examination is very promising, Francoise."

"Mon Dieu!" Feeling faint upon hearing this, she leaned against Alexandre's solid strength.

"Our son's strong, Francoise." Taking in a shaky breath, Alexandre tried to make himself believe his own words. "As we both are. He'll get through this with us by his side every step of the way."

"The swelling has gone down considerably and Charles told us he could see bits of light and figures now appear as shadows." Taking hold of Francoise' hands, Louis squeezed them gently.

"I too know that people can be affected in that manner from a sharp blow like the one d'Artagnan's suffered," Aramis offered Francoise who was shaken by the news. "Sometimes concussions take an odd turn. This is one of those times." Tipping his head toward Alexandre, he tacked on, "As I'm sure your husband is well aware of." Touching Francoise' elbow, Aramis leaned close whispering, "Your son will overcome this. I feel it," he promised fiercely.

"From your mouth to God's ear, Aramis," she gripped his arm.

Up until now, Zaru rested in the hold of the hapless guardsman. Excitedly he began chattering again, taking a huge leap into the air he landed in Athos' arms. The latter was so stunned at this unexpected turn, he could only stare at the Capuchin dumbfounded.

"He senses you've become close with our son." Giving the Musketeer a slight smile, Francoise reached out to pet the monkey's back. "Tis why Zaru feels you need comforting as much as he does."

"All of you to my council chambers." Not bothering to see if anyone was following his command, King Louis strode ahead. "I need to hear everything that's happened." He did pause to glance over his shoulder, catching the concern written on all their faces. "Later you can go back to Charles. By then the pain draught Antoine gave him should have worn off."

++++

_Royal council chambers_

Cardinal Richelieu had been informed and didn't waste time returning to the palace. He sat off to the left of His Majesty, casting his eyes around the table noting the strained expressions most of the gathering wore.

"Cardinal," King Louis tapped His Eminence on the arm with a rolled up scroll. "Tis the proof against the Comte."

Slowly unrolling the papers Richelieu perused the document carefully, turning page after page. Spreading his long fingers over it, once he was satisfied he'd read enough, Richelieu's dark gaze stabbed them all. In a dry voice he remarked, "I gather Delaflote does not know of your deception?"

"We fed him a line involving an imaginary employer that discovered the Comte's duplicity," Alexandre offered first.

"And that he was going to blackmail Delaflote with those papers," Francoise added. "Tis what Alexandre came up with in hopes that we could bargain for Charles' life."

Treville also was at the meeting feeling quite astounded at Alexandre's ingenuity. "Very good," his lips pursed. "Thinking on your feet like a true Musketeer." Chuckling, Treville nodded back when Alexandre acknowledged the compliment with a dip of his head.

" _Former_ Musketeer, Jean-Armand." Lips curling upward Alexandre shared a long look with Louis and Jean-Armand, reminding them that there were some things hard to forget.

"We are to make a trade for d'Artagnan on the morrow," Athos' tense voice broke in. The Capuchin was firmly attached to his shoulder by now, apparently finding much comfort in the contact with Athos as Francoise had earlier surmised. Arching a brow, staring at the document they all prized, Athos' lips tautened.

Without words being spoken, King Louis realized what Athos meant. "Cardinal, how fast could your man Laraway come up with something that at first glance appeared as the real thing?"

Instantly Richelieu came to his feet, bowing before the young king. "I will get him on it right this very minute, Sire." Before leaving with the document in hand, Richelieu looked at the assembled group. "What time is your rendezvous?"

"Noon." He couldn't contain his rough laughter the cardinal's innocent question invoked. Noting Richelieu looking down his nose at him, Porthos figured he better explain himself. "'E arranged that time 'imself so that the Comte could go eat lunch in the city afta the exchange took place."

"Or so Delaflote said," Aramis added followed by a light shrug of one shoulder.

"Delaflote will find he's in store for more than lunch at the Fleur de Lys." Whirling around, Richelieu departed their company.

"Old fox." Staring at the captain over his steepled fingertips, King Louis tilted his head to the side. "You and the others have a trap to set up and I have a decision to make on how to proceed with Comte Delaflote's execution." Glancing at the inseparables and then back again at Treville, his lips twisted. "Bien, tis if he remains alive after your skirmish." Slapping the table with his hand, King Louis' dark eyes gleamed. "Tis time to make our plans."

++++

After a lengthy discussion on how they would proceed, Antoine had interrupted them with news that Charles was awake.

"Does he know we're here?" Anxious, Francoise grabbed Alexandre's hand, her nails biting into his skin.

"Oui," Antoine smiled. "Charles was beyond excited to know that you're all back." When his eyes spotted Athos, he tsked. "The lad will not be pleased when he discovers that you received an injury." Staring at the sling, Antoine's curious eyes settled on Aramis. "Your work I believe?"

"Of course." Once Athos gained his feet Aramis pushed his eldest brother toward the physician, meeting with great resistance. "I shall feel better if the doctor takes a look at your wound, mon ami."

"Not until I get to see the pup first," Athos growled, which apparently tickled everyone's mirth judging by the laughter he heard.

++++

_d'Artagnan's room_

His head buried in the crook of his maman's neck, d'Artagnan found himself enveloped in love and warmth. The scent of her sweet smelling perfume made him think of their home back in Lupiac. His papa's fingers were gently combing through his hair, being very careful to avoid the tender area where he was injured. "Mmmmm... fine, maman." D'Artagnan's voice was muffled against her shoulder, while she continued cradling him in her arms. Her tears fell on his face, but it wasn't until d'Artagnan's parents took turns kissing his forehead that he nearly started to weep.

" _Fine_ the whelp says." Sharing knowing looks with both Athos and Aramis, Porthos snorted. "You're as _fine_ , d'Artagnan, as Aramis is without his weapons."

"You're nothing but a big blur, Porthos." Grinning up at the Musketeer, d'Artagnan reached out to pat Porthos' huge chest. "At least I know tis you." His hair ruffled by a very large hand d'Artagnan huffed, putting up with the gesture that he knew was done out of friendship.

"Picture this..." Bending his head, Aramis went to whisper a few words in the lad's ear.

"Truly?" Squinting his eyes, d'Artagnan tried to make out the oldest Musketeer's form. "Bet he was shocked," he whispered back. Then d'Artagnan found himself being attacked by his over zealous pet.

"Athos!" Both Porthos and Aramis exclaimed in unison.

"Tis hard to hold onto Zaru with basically one working limb," Athos fired off hotly. Watching the reunion between the boy and his pet monkey, he had to admit that it was just as touching as observing the same thing with d'Artagnan's parents. The Capuchin was all over the young Gascon, who was trying his best to calm Zaru down. The monkey ended up with the Capuchin's arms wrapped tightly around d'Artagnan's neck, its tail curling happily in the air.

"'E missed ya, kid."

"I missed him so much too." Choking up, d'Artagnan buried his face in the soft fur tickling his nose. It was then that Athos' words came back to him. Lifting his head up, d'Artagnan called out the man's name. "Athos."

Standing by the pup's bedside, Athos took the boy's hand. "I'm here, lad."

"Your earlier remark. You said something about using one arm." Frustrated that he couldn't yet see properly, d'Artagnan tugged his hand from Athos' and placed fisted ones over his eyes. "Merde! If only I could see I wouldn't have to ask stupid questions!"

"None of that now, d'Artagnan." His deep voice steady and soothing, Athos squeezed the back of the pup's neck. Before forming the words that would make the Gascon understand how he acquired his wound, Porthos butted in.

"'E threatened the Comte at sword point wantin' ta know where ya were."

"One of Delaflote's hirelings took exception to Athos doing so and shot him in the right shoulder," supplied Aramis.

"Athos." Settling Zaru upon his shoulder, d'Artagnan patted a spot on the bed for the Musketeer to sit near him. Reaching out to the older man he pulled him closer, so that d'Artagnan could rest his head on Athos' chest. "You could have been killed all because of me." Voice wobbly, it trailed off into a mere whisper. When Athos kissed his temple, d'Artagnan stirred slightly. "Guess that means you like me." Grinning cheekily he heard guffaws from Aramis and Porthos. When a familiar scent reached his nostrils d'Artagnan moved from his comfortable niche, sniffing the air. Tilting his head up to Athos he asked, "Is Milady here?"

"How could you be sure tis she?" Staring over the boy's head at a startled Anne, Athos tapped the lad's chin.

"Jasmine, the scent lingers in the air," d'Artagnan said. "I remembered that smell from the first time meeting her at the chateau." Ducking his head shyly, he muttered quietly, "Apparently tis the conjecture that my other senses have somewhat heightened with my injury."

Up to that juncture Milady had maintained her silence. "Tis hard not to like one such as you, d'Artagnan. You have many promising qualities."

"And if ever there was a woman who knows what she likes in a man," Athos retorted sourly, "tis her."

"Non." Hand gripping Athos' arm, d'Artagnan shook it hard. "Don't start _that_ all over again."

"Do as the lad says, Athos, and save all our eardrums the grief." Bumping shoulders with Porthos, Aramis thought that if no one else would they at least could make sure the battle of the ex's didn't escalate.

"How would you like to hear how we're going to capture the Comte?" Throwing his arm around his son's shoulder, Alexandre began to reveal their plan.

++++

_Next day, noon - rendezvous point at the lake_

Nervous, sweat beading down his forehead,  Delaflote didn't have d'Artagnan to bargain with. Those fools Bolivar and Estavan never came back which meant the boy was nowhere to be found. So it would seem he'd have to bluff his way through this after all. Noting Alexandre, Francoise and the others were all waiting for him by the edge of the lake, Delaflote dismounted.

Having Felipe, Donato, Ernesto, and Pedro either side of him, bolstered his confidence. The others in his employ were hiding a mere whistle away waiting for his orders, all in all he had a dozen men in tow. Eyes drawn automatically to the rolled up papers Alexandre carried, he stepped toward the Gascon. "Buenas tardes," he laughed.

"I don't see Charles." Trying to pretend anger, Alexandre handed over the papers to Milady who stood silently by Francoise' side. "No Charles... no document," he bit out. "Twas what we agreed upon." It sickened him that Delaflote greeted them in Spanish. Like the man was trying to rub their noses in the dirt over the fact that the Comte now worked for the other side.

"Tis taking far longer than I thought in bringing the boy here." If the d'Artagnan's didn't swallow that story, Delaflote would have to fight for what was his.

"You're the one who set up the time, Comte." A touch of Gascon sarcasm colored Alexandre's tone. He was beginning to enjoy himself, now that Charles was safe back at the palace.

"While we wait for your son to make his appearance," Delaflote smiled pleasantly, "why not give me the document now?"

"You must be deluded to think we would do any such thing," scoffed Francoise taking the papers from Milady.

"Your stalling tactics are infantile," taunted Athos.

"You insult me, Monsieur!" Snapping his fingers, Delaflote signaled his servants.

The cocking of weapons was a recognizable sound to the inseparables, as it was to the rest in their party. None of them were surprised, knowing it would come down to this. So it was that a high pitched whistle coming from Porthos was a call to arms for thirteen of their brethren, including Captain Treville, waiting in the wings.

++++

_Notes:_

_Fleur de Lys_ restaurant that is mentioned was actually a real restaurant. I liked the sound of the name, for obvious reasons, and wanted to use it as Comte Delaflote's favorite eatery. The restaurant was located in San Francisco, CA and was opened for twenty eight years before closing in 2014.

 _Spanish:_  
_Buenas tardes_ \- good afternoon


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get to the battle, despite my sciatica issues. Lady_Neve and Fran, I hope you enjoy this part.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Left off at the confrontation a/k/a the fireworks (or at least my version minus the actual kabooms and sparkly stuff)_

Uneasy because the d’Artagnan’s, their bodyguards – _if that was who they truly were_ , and Milady didn’t appear in the least intimidated when Tito, along with Adan and Curro, came out of the woods to join Delaflote. A moment later Desi, Emigdio and Faustino appeared on horseback from another direction. Still none of his adversaries appeared phased. It was not until the last three – Ignacio, Hectar and Jacinto, rounded out his men that Delaflote now understood what that whistle from the dark-skinned one meant.

From directly behind his opposition the woods opened up, pouring out Musketeers proudly wearing their pauldrons. “Nom de Dieu! You’ve tricked me!” Furious, spittle ran down Delaflote’s chin. “You sought His Majesty's regiment in hopes of saving your own miserable skins!"

Still seated upon his horse, Treville spoke up. “You were indeed tricked but they never worked for a blackmailer to begin with!”

“Just the king of France,” Alexandre supplied with relish, brandishing his rapier with a flourish to bow mockingly before his enemy.

“The… the… _king_ … _king of France!_ ” Deleflote sputtered, all color leeching from his features. If Catalina didn’t kill him first King Louis surely would.

“Yvain!” Milady callously laughed. “Oh, Yvain!” she sing-songed, from the safety of her position behind some bushes. “You should see your face!”

“You!… you, Milady…” seeing nothing but red upon hearing her voice, Delaflote spat, “are nothing but a common putain!”

“Tsk, tsk.” Pretending to be put out, Milady placed her hands on her hips swaying them back and forth. “Reduced to lowly name calling… how droll.”

Her words fired his blood. There was nothing for it, Delaflote knew that he would have to fight his way out of this or else face the consequences of his actions. Traveling back to Spain to beg Ramon for sanctuary was the only thing keeping his sanity in check.

“Senor.” Felipe went to stand by the Comte. “They have twenty in their number and we do not. Should we retreat?”

“We wouldn’t get very far,” Delaflote snarled. “But I do have an idea.” Telling Felipe what he wanted done, he sent his man off. Delaflote raised his rapier high. With a last look at his men he bellowed, “ _ATTACK!_ ”

Firing their own muskets and pistols at the Spaniards, Francoise and Milady took cover behind some trees.

Reule, Maron and Rene were kept busy dodging blades and weapon fire. As were Laron, Herve, Solomon and Aleaume. Though the latter two Musketeers were throwing bombs which helped divert attention from their other brethren. The smoke alone helped give everyone the cover they needed.

Taking sight of his targets Aramis aimed his harquebus with unerring accuracy, maiming one and taking out another in quick succession.

“Well played,” Michiel congratulated the marksman. “How come you never miss?” Having just fired his own muskets, missing both Spaniards, Michiel was upset with himself.

Kissing his harquebus, Aramis’ eyes slid toward his brother-in-arms. “ _Respect your weapon and your weapon will respect you._ ”

“Monsieur Chevalier, I bow to your expertise in matters of weaponry.” With a wave of his hand, Michiel ran off to aid Athos who was attempting to fight off three Spaniards on his own. Even knowing how talented with a blade Athos was, even one handed, Michiel felt that the older man would appreciate the help.

While his Musketeers on the ground were efficient as always Treville and his men that were still mounted fought a different battle, trading blows with Comte Delaflote’s other lackeys. “Noel! Linville! Segal!” he shouted. “To your left! Get them!” Kicking his right leg from the stirrup, sliding it over, Treville jumped from his horse. On foot now, his sword rang out to meet Spanish steel. “Mon Dieu, Yount, watch your back!”

“Voclain!” taking the other Musketeer’s arm, Porthos literally threw a Spaniard at the other Musketeer’s feet. “Finish ‘im. I’ve got this one ta handle!”

“Adan!” shouted Delaflote. “Take two others and try to get around their other side without being seen!”

“Si, to do bien, Senor.”

Back to back with Aramis, Porthos’ rough laughter rang out. “Nothin’ like a good old fashioned fight ta stir up the blood, eh, Mis?”

A tad perturbed, Aramis looked at the chaos around him, frowning slightly.

“Why the long face?” Parrying an incoming thrust with his maine gauche, Porthos quickly finished off his opponent.

“Tis that this is just so… so _normal_.” His rapier clashed against his adversaries’ Toledo steel. Jumping forward and lunging toward the Spaniard, Aramis took his attacker off guard leaving him able to run his sword through the other man. Making the sign of the cross over the deceased he heard Porthos shout over the noise.

“I was _normal_ once…” Snorting in amusement, Porthos made a powerful thrust of his blade toward another Spanish batard. The enemy countered with a desperate thrust of his own but Porthos easily sidestepped away. “Worst two minutes of my life.”

Separating from his larger brother, Aramis went over to help the captain. In his haste to aid Treville, Aramis concentrated only on the enemy in front of him. In doing so, he had unintentionally put himself in a vulnerable position, exposing himself to jeopardy. Having engaged several Spaniards on his way, Aramis was oblivious to another attacker coming up from behind him who was armed with two pistols aimed at Aramis’ back.

It was the unmistakable sound of an enraged Capuchin screeching his fury, from within the foliage of the tree Zaru was hanging from, that saved Aramis’ life. Whirling around at the noise, he was just in time to dodge a ball that would have surely ended him. Unfortunately, before departing from this world from a fatal wound delivered by Rene, the Spaniard fired off a lucky shot hitting Aramis in the upper part of his thigh. “ _Merde!_ ” Dropping to the ground, clutching his wound, he was out in the open exposed to any attacker.

The younger Musketeer, Rene, ran to Aramis to help pull him back up. Both men knew they were easy targets, if they couldn’t get to cover right away. But it appeared a guardian angel, in the form of Zaru once again, became the protector. Taking a huge leap from the tree he landed on the barren head of another Spaniard intending on doing the marksman harm, causing the enemy to lose his own weapons in the process.

Observing the Spaniard going around in a dizzying circle trying to shake Zaru off, Aramis would have laughed at the picture it presented if he hadn’t been in so much pain. He would have to remember to tell this story to d’Artagnan later. With Rene half carrying, half dragging, Aramis toward the cover of some trees, Rene managed to settle Aramis against the base of a fairly large one. A cursory look at his injury showed Aramis that it was bleeding sluggishly. Wrapping his blue sash around the wound he would check later to see if the ball remained inside or if it was through and through. Rene had other ideas, insisting to have a look at it. It reminded Aramis of the times when Athos and Porthos had received similar wounds, annoying Aramis greatly when neither of his brothers would let him treat the injuries until everyone was out of danger. "Give me that long branch over yonder, Rene. I'll use that as a makeshift crutch and find a good position to pick off the enemy." The younger man angrily went to do his bidding. Aramis would have to see to it that he bought Rene a drink later over at The Wren to make up for his disobedience.

"Mon cher!" Yelling at Alexandre, Francoise pointed over to where the Capuchin was tormenting the Spanish.

Observing Zaru putting his all into attacking the enemy, Alexandre laughed upon hearing the Spaniard's loud screams. "He sounds like a girl."

" _El mono! El Mono!_ " Beside himself with fear, covered in scratches, Jacinto couldn't stop the loco animal that was doing a good job of tearing him to pieces.

Even with one good arm Athos was still deadly with musket and pistol. His attention had momentarily been drawn away from his opponent, when he caught sight of Zaru's timely intervention in saving Aramis. How badly the marksman was hurt, he'd discover for himself later. For now his adversary was of the greatest import. Tucking several weapons in his belt he then unsheathed his sword.

Dancing away from his opponent's blade Athos suddenly lept forward attacking with his rapier extended, running toward his opposition on landing. This maneuver allowed him to close the large gap between them. The Spaniard didn't have time to parry or sidestep out of the way of Athos' sword. "Tis misgives me to do this," he paused mulling his words over, "bien, perhaps not that much, but needs must." His sword thrust was true, going straight through the heart. The Spaniard shook his head feebly, before collapsing near Athos' feet. His job here done, he stepped over the body of the dying man.

Her pistol still smoking, Francoise stood by her husband's side. "I must say I find this all exhilarating."

"Ah! Cherie d'amour, you couldn't ever tell anyone you live a boring life of domesticity." Kicking a dead body aside that was in his way, Alexandre's eyes scanned the area. "No wonder those damn Spanish keep multiplying! I believe one of the Comte's men went back for reinforcements."

"Treville's Musketeers are well able to handle them." Raising her pistol, Milady took out her attackers with deadly accuracy that could only rival Aramis' marksmanship. One of the wounded Spaniards had the gall to fall upon her skirts. "I do distaste that when it happens. Bloodstains are so hard to get out of the fabric." Catching raised brows from Francoise, Milady grinned. "Don't you?"

"It hasn't happened to me yet," Francoise' eyes twinkled. "Oh look! One of them is trying to run away!" Grabbing Milady's arm they took off after the coward.

Catching Felipe off guard, when the Spaniard had come riding out through the trees, Porthos grabbed the man by the leg pulling Felipe from the horse. Enjoying the sounds of bones breaking, Porthos was in his element. Crushing Felipe's ribcage was one way of getting revenge against this Spanish scum for hurting Athos. However, to his misfortune, Porthos miscalculated his victory. During their struggle somehow Felipe managed to pull a poignard from Porthos' weapons belt. So when Felipe stabbed him in his left arm, Porthos howled in pain and outrage. " _Merde!_ Ya 'ad ta go and do it didn't ya? 'Ere I was playin' nice and all." Another loud crunch of bones later caused Felipe to scream in agony. Throwing the Spaniard down into the dirt Porthos stepped over him, never looking back.

"Porthos, you're bleeding!"

"Tell me somethin' I don't know, Captin'."

Chuckling, Treville knew that wound wouldn't stop his largest and mightiest Musketeer. Parrying against his own opponent he hooked the Spaniard's sword so that it went flying through the air. Pointing his blade at the enemy Treville's eyes narrowed. "Do you surrender or would you rather die like a man and not the sniveling Spanish dog that you are?" When the other man threw down his sword and got to his knees before him, Treville's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Rene! Here's another one, son! Get him into the wagon with the other prisoners!" As Rene took the prisoner from him, Treville noted that his men, and the ladies too, appeared to have things well in hand. Spying Alexandre taking on Delaflote, he grimly smiled his pleasure.

"Have done, you fool!" Alexandre hollered. "I said stay your hand or else I'll run you through!"

"Quel dommage I cannot do as you ask," countered Delaflote.

"Tres bien." When Delaflote's blade clashed against Alexandre's own, the force of the blow reverberated up the entire length of his arm. Sidestepping away he managed to dodge a parry against the Comte's oncomng attack. Backpeddling Alexandre wrenched Delaflote's sword to the side which left the other man wide open to Alexandre's last thrust. " _That was for Charles!_ " When the Comte toppled to the ground, Alexandre's thoughts dwelled upon his son and what the boy was going through.

"Is he dead?" Joining Alexandre, Jean-Armand gazed down upon the bleeding injury dealt to Delaflote's left side. "Took a nice piece out of him."

"Tis not life threatening," Alexandre smiled. "Just very painful." Prodding the Comte's uninjured side with the tip of his boot to see if the man had regained his senses, Alexandre made a face. "I saved the coup de gras for Louis."

Hearing loud exclamations of distress, Treville spotted two of his inseparables. Watching Reule, Laron and Voclain tending to Porthos and Aramis he joined them by the lake's edge, where both men were being treated. Noting Aramis grimacing with pain while Reule poked and prodded the marksman's angry wound, Treville could sympathize. It turned out that the musketball had gone clean through Aramis' thigh, missing anything vital. After Reule had cleaned out the injury and wrapped it the best he could, Treville noted an odd expression cover the marksman's face that he couldn't decipher. "What is it?"

"Taking in the events of the day," Aramis' dark eyes dimmed, "I've just found out the world doesn't revolve around me. I'm shocked and upset."

When Reule's hand accidentally slipped, pressing on his injury, Aramis' leg automatically jerked striking out at Voclain who was assisting. The blow to Voclain's shoulder knocked the Musketeer over.

Oh oui, things were getting back to normal. His marksman would be fine. Though the same may not be said of the men tending him, or Porthos for that matter. Observing the latter batting Laron's hand away from Porthos' bloody left arm, Treville ended up being more concerned for the welfare of Laron who was trying to clean the injury. Leaning over Laron's shoulder, Treville settled a hand on the back of Porthos' neck. "Think you'll live?"

"I've gottin' 'urt worse in a barfight, Captin'."

Laughing at the remark that was typical of Porthos, Treville knew it took quite alot to keep this particular soldier down. When he went to check on the rest of his men, finding most of them either uninjured or carrying minor cuts and bruises, Treville felt that he couldn't have asked for a better outcome. Just when he thought everything was under control, the sound of more bombs being set off took him by surprise. Turning around, encountering his one armed lieutenant, Treville said, "I thought we took care of all the Spanish."

"Apparently Anne enjoys explosives." Athos tried to ignore his captain's astonished expression. "She's enlisted Michiel and Aleaume's help in blowing them up over where our remaining prisoners are."

"I can understand her wanting to scare our Spanish captives half to death," chuckling, Treville worked some stiffness out of his neck, "but that one exploded a tad to close to where Herve stood." Amused now, he watched Herve duck for cover. "We really should stop them."

"I say let them have their fun until they run out of bombs," Athos drawled."

"Er, oui, but those bombs are expensive, Athos." As his lieutenant headed over to where Milady was having her bit of fun, he could have sworn Athos muttered something under his breath about - what's a few more Spanish more or less. Silently sharing the younger man's sentiments, Treville's attention was then caught noting several of his injured Musketeers were waiting to go into one of the wagons. Striding over, he went to help.

When sounds of Aramis' and Porthos' loud hoots of laughter reached him, Treville looked around to see what was so amusing. When he did his lips twitched once... twice... until his own mirth overtook him. It appeared that Zaru was doling out his own version of Musketeer punishment. The Capuchin was in one of the wagons loaded with their Spanish prisoners. Apparently Zaru had quite the temper when riled for the monkey was either striking out at them, with his hands, or lashing out with a quick swish of his long tail.

Eventually it got even better, as Treville's eyes widened at the site of the monkey jumping on top of the Spaniard's heads. Zaru was on a roll going from one man to another, making the Spanish wishing they had stayed in Spain. It took Francoise' gentle persuasion to make Zaru quit. Still, Treville would remember to never get on the bad side of d'Artagnan's pet. This would be another interesting story to relate to his godson when he returned to the palace. Upon hearing Alexandre's shouting, Treville twisted around to see what the deuce was going on now! Ah! So that was it. Delaflote was finally conscious and was being shoved, none too gently, into the wagon by his angry Gascon friend.

"You are a disgrace to our country!" Pushing the wounded Comte until Delaflote was inside the wagon, Alexandre's dark eyes flashed with anger.

"I'm hurt!" Delaflote bitterly complained. "Is this how you treat your prisoners?"

"Only _traitors_." Having sauntered over to the wagon, Milady grinned wickedly at the popinjay putting on airs.

"Hmmmpf! I have nothing more to say to you." Ignoring her mocking laughter, Delaflote's spirits plummeted further but he wanted to have the last word. "No matter what any of you think of me," his eyes narrowed on Alexandre, "I am proud of helping Spain."

"Don't expect to build up the weak by pulling down the strong, Comte." Disdain in his voice, Alexandre was disgusted with Delaflote's declaration.

"Whatever I face back in Paris," taking a shuddering breath Delaflote's face remained defiant, "I go with a clear conscience."

"Tis been said all too often that a _clear conscience_ is the result of a faulty memory." Taking Alexandre by the arm, Francoise led her husband away from the evil that was reflected in the Comte's features.

Patting her hand, Alexandre proudly gazed at his spouse. "That was well said, mon ange."

"I thought so too." Looking down at her dress, Francoise' lips formed a moue of disappointment.

"It was a very good day," Alexandre stated. "Do you not think so?" Noting her petulant expression, he tried to figure out if it was from what he had said.

"It was until this happened." Fingering her gown, Francoise showed him where a musket ball had torn through the fabric. "Now I'll have to purchase a new one."

"Any excuse to spend our hard earned money, eh?" Amused, Alexandre helped his wife mount her horse. They were eager to return to Paris and to their son.

++++

_Late afternoon - Royal Palace, d'Artagnan's room_

"What the deuce are you doing, boy!"

After everyone had left him to meet the Comte, d'Artagnan felt awful that he couldn't have gone along. It would have been the first time he could have interacted with his godfather on a mission. Being stuck in the palace, with nothing better to do than worry about his eyesight returning, grated on his nerves. On the brighter side of things, his vision was improving by the hour making d'Artagnan feel somewhat better. Never a good patient at the best of times, he was getting antsy. Deciding to go against doctor's orders, he gingerly got out of bed. When the king's physician bellowed his disapproval, startled d'Artagnan grabbed onto the bedpost to prevent from falling onto the floor. "Do you have to be so loud?" he snapped peavishly.

"Just because I don't appear as a blur to you any long does not mean you can start roaming about the palace grounds." Quite annoyed with his young charge, Antoine went to help the lad over to one of the chairs. "Next thing I know you'll be running a foot race down the corridors with King Louis."

Pouting, d'Artagnan opened his eyes wider, trying to take in his surroundings. Antoine was correct about one thing. The doctor was definitely not a blurry figure to him any longer. He could make out the entire form now. Facial features became sharper but were still fuzzy around the edges. Backgrounds were coming more into focus as well. Snorting softly, d'Artagnan thought the physician's remark rather funny, picturing himself and His Majesty running willy nilly through the palace driving the guards to distraction.

"Sit still for me." Ordering the boy to listen to him, Antoine checked the swelling on d'Artagnan's head. The youngster fidgeted under his questing fingers, causing Antoine to lose his patience. "What part of _be still_ do you not understand?"

Swatting the doctor's hands away, d'Artagnan scowled. "You said _sit still_ ," he retorted.

"Semantics, lad." Pleased on how the Gascon's injury was progressing, Antoine stopped his examination.

"Any news yet?" Worried for everyone he loved and cared for, d'Artagnan was anxious, wanting nothing more than to hear the sound of familiar voices.

"Tis one of the reasons I came to see you, d'Artagnan." His tone gentle, Antoine placed a hand on the lad's shoulder. "They've all come back from the skirmish along with a few wagons carrying wounded prisoners and some of our own injured."

"Who was hurt?" d'Artagnan blurted out. "Do you know? Not my parents or Uncle Jean?"

"Non, Charles." Chuckling at the rapid fired questions, Antoine remembered something one of the Musketeers had just told him. "Though I have heard that Aramis and Porthos were giving their brothers grief while their wounds were being treated."

"Athos?"

There was a wealth of meaning in that one word, bringing a touch of a smile to Antoine's lips. "I believe he made it out unscathed."

"I can't wait to hear all about it." Eager to be reunited with his maman and papa, d'Artagnan wondered if the doctor would allow him out of this room.

"Non!" An exasperated sigh escaping him, Antoine huffed. "I can see it in your face, boy!" He didn't want the young Gascon pushing himself too fast. "They'll come to you as soon as they report to His Majesty first."

"Are you always like this?"

"Like what?" Countering with a grin and a wink, Antoine touched d'Artagnan's knee. Leaning in he said, "Word has it that your pet monkey saved Aramis' life today."

"Zaru did!" Proud of his Capuchin, he began wondering if King Louis would allow him to keep Zaru when d'Artagnan finally became a recruit. It was something to ponder, upon while he anxiously awaited to see his parents.

++++

_Notes:_

_Nom de Dieu_ – God damn it  
_Putain_ – prostitute, whore, hooker… take your pick (grins)  
_Batard_ \- bastard  
_Quel dommage_ \- what a shame  
_Tres bien_ \- very well  
_Coup de gras_ \- finishing blow

 _Spanish:_  
_Si, to do bien_ – Yes, all right  
_El mono_ \- monkey  
_Loco_ \- crazy

 _Quote: “I was normal once… worst two minutes of my life”_ – Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "Taking in the events of the day, I've just found out the world doesn't revolve around me. I'm shocked and upset."_ \- Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "Don't expect to build up the weak by pulling down the strong"_ \- is from Calvin Coolidge. John Calvin Coolidge Jr. (July 4, 1872 – January 5, 1933) was the 30th President of the United States (1923–29).

 _Quote: "A clear conscience is the result of a faulty memory."_ is from an Anonymous person.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Still late afternoon – Royal Palace_

_Council Chambers_

“Excellent work!” Rocking back and forth on his heels with pleasure, King Louis beamed at everyone gathered. “All of you! Most excellent!" Glancing over his right shoulder he nodded his head at the cardinal. “What say you, eh?”

“Indeed it was very good work.” Looking over the room, Richlieu was pleased at today’s outcome. “My Red Guards couldn’t have done a better job themselves.”

“Wanna make a bet on that?” Propping Aramis up with the strength of his shoulder because his stubborn friend refused to use a cane he had been given upon arrival, Porthos grinned wickedly.

It was a good thing Porthos kept his voice low so that Cardinal Richelieu didn’t hear that remark, Athos thought. Still, his lips twitched in silent agreement.

“I gather that the prisoners are under lock and key at the Chatelet?” Arching a brow, Richelieu stared down his nose at Captain Treville.

“Of course.” A long look passed between Treville and the cardinal. “Comte Delaflote will undoubtedly fine his accommodations below his typical standards,” he added wryly.

Walking over to Francoise, who was cradling Zaru in her arms, King Louis glided a hand down over the monkey’s back. “I hear you’ve acquitted yourself quite well, Zaru.” Lips turning up in the corners, he listened when the Capuchin began chattering back at him. “I say a reward or two shall be coming your way shortly.”

“Sire,” Richelieu interrupted, “what about the Comte’s execution?”

“It will be done and finished with on the morrow.” Frowning, King Louis wanted this entire distasteful business in the past. “Philip will certainly be hearing from me soon over this matter you can count on that. I’m particularly disturbed over the Spanish ambassador’s role in this."

"Philip would probably make up a flimsy excuse in hopes of appeasing your ire." Richelieu tutted. "Something along the lines of that he didn't know what Catalina was getting up too."

Snorting loudly, Porthos had all eyes on him. "Apologies, Your Majesty," he dipped his head. "But I'd bet good coin on the fact that the king of Spain was behind sending Ambassador Catalina to meet up with Comte Delaflote."

"I think you'd win your bet, Porthos." Turning around to face the cardinal, King Louis sighed. "Proving it would be difficult," he tapped his chin. "At least knowing that we've arrested the Comte, having found proof of his guilt, should cause Philip to squirm somewhat," he grinned. "Wish I could see his face when he discovers we've foiled his plans."

"Whatever those would be," Richelieu added. He was worried that there could possibly be other traitors in France that King Philip had under his thumb. But he wouldn't burden the young monarch with more than His Majesty could handle for the moment. "If Catalina knows what's good for him," he snapped, "he won't set foot into France again."

Dipping his head, acknowledging the cardinal's words, King Louis then noted two more of the inseparables appeared in need of the Garrison's infirmary. "On another note..." Eyes resting on his Musketeers, he tsked. "Twas bad enough that Athos was injured at Delaflote's estate," taking in the sling he now sported. "Now you both have gotten yourselves wounded as well." Looking at the way Aramis listed to one side because of the injury to his leg, supported by Porthos' bulk, King Louis gave a minute shake of his head. His largest Musketeer's left arm, even though thoroughly wrapped around the injury, was still seeping blood. "Next time, Aramis," glancing to his right he included Porthos, "you too... my orders are to _duck_." Smiles and gentle laughter accompanied King Louis' jest, lightening the tense mood tremendously.

Needing to speak with His Majesty privately, Richelieu made a suggestion. "I do believe Doctor Granville said his young patient was anxious to see all of you." Holding up a finger, Richelieu took in the serious looks he garnered. "Not all at once, mind you."

"Come, Francoise." With a gentle push to her back, leading her out the door, Alexandre was suddenly in a hurry. "The sooner we see Charles," he sniffed the air, "we can then wash up and change out of these filthy things."

Wrinkling her nose, Francoise had to agree. "The stink of musketfire even lingers in my hair."

"Mine as well." Following the d'Artagnan's lead, Milady glanced back at the rest of the men in the room before departing. "I'm for a nice relaxing bath." Flouncing away, the door snicked closed behind her.

++++

_D'Artagnan's room_

Having warmly greeted his parents, d'Artagnan had learned part of what happened at the lake. Knowing they were both in need of a good bath and set fresh of clothes, he happily took Zaru from his maman.

"I believe your godfather and the inseparables have their own stories to share with you, Charles." With Alexandre's wife prodding him in the side with her sharp elbow he rolled his eyes "As you can see Francoise is in a hurry to be clean."

Lips pulling at the corners of his mouth, d'Artagnan couldn't blame his maman. "Before you go I have good news of my own," he smiled shyly. "My vision is improving and I can see much better now." Receiving hugs from his parents, d'Artagnan was once more enveloped in their loving embrace. "Sometimes things still go blurry but I'll take this over being in the dark any day."

"Alexandre," winking at her son, Francoise grinned impishly, "we shall get Louis to break out his cache of champagne at dinner tonight."

"It does call for a celebration at that." Laying a hand on top of Charles' head, Alexandre's fingers glided through the boy's silky hair. "All the way around."

"I'd rather have a good wine," d'Artagnan grumbled.

"That is if Antoine says you're allowed any alcohol in your condition." Tugging gently on Zaru's tail, Francoise noted the scowl forming on Charles' handsome features. "Perhaps I could sweet talk the doctor into letting you have just a wee bit." When her son's face brightened considerably, Francoise then crossed her fingers that she could get Antoine to do her bidding. In the meantime that disgusting odor was beginning to make her sick. That bath was calling to her louder than ever. "Charles, as much as I want to stay longer we really need to get clean."

"Don't let me hold you up." Grinning at them, d'Artagnan heard his papa snort and his maman pull a face.

"That bad, huh?" Chuckling, Alexandre ushered Francoise away. "I'll send in the inseparables next. They wanted to see you before heading to the infirmary."

Cuddling his Capuchin, it seemed no sooner had his parents left that they were soon replaced with the three soldiers d'Artagnan had grown close too in so short a time.

"Hey, kid." Snagging a chair, Porthos guided the unsteady form of Aramis to sit upon it.

Straining his eyes somewhat, it became obvious to d'Artagnan that Aramis and Porthos were hurt. Glancing at Athos, he was relieved that the swordsman remained the same since last d'Artagnan had seen him.

When the boy's eyes settled on his leg, Aramis pointed at Zaru. "I owe my life twice over to your pet." He then went into detail about the Capuchin's heroic efforts and how Aramis sustained his injury.

Kissing the top of his monkey's head, d'Artagnan held Zaru close to his chest. He could have lost his beloved pet. But if a cat was supposed to have nine lives, he believed his Capuchin had many more considering all the mischief Zaru could get in and out of unscathed. Noting Porthos' mouth set in a tight line, d'Artagnan figured the man's wound was giving him grief. "What happened to your arm, Porthos?"

"That damn Felipe 'appened!" Porthos growled. "I got 'im back for Athos though. Cracked 'is ribs good and proper."

"You could have done that without getting stabbed in the arm." Aramis quirked a brow, getting a dirty look from his friend.

"What did happen to Felipe? With everything going on I lost track." Glancing at d'Artagnan, Athos wanted to know as much as the pup.

"Aleaume told me that at a guess one of those busted ribs punctured Felipe's lung," Porthos explained. "Everyone was busy fightin' so later when the prisoners were bein' gathered together they discovered Felipe had died."

"Can't say I'm sorry he's gone." Unconsciously rubbing at his sore shoulder, Athos' felt the weight of d'Artagnan's gaze settle upon him.

"I'm glad he's dead too." Letting Zaru climb onto his shoulder, d'Artagnan's eyes dropped from the older Musketeer.

"We understand that your vision's returning to normal." Placing a hand on the youngster's arm Athos gave it a firm squeeze.

"Maman wants to celebrate your victory and my recovery with champagne." Pouting, d'Artagnan felt, that despite his maman's good intentions, the physician would nix that idea in the bud.

"Why the look then?" Tilting his head to the side, studying the lad, Aramis was puzzled.

"The doctor may not let me have any. Though I'd rather have wine." Hearing Aramis' snort of laughter didn't improve d'Artagnan's disposition over the matter either.

"Champagne... bah!" Chuckling, Porthos reached out to ruffle the whelp's hair. "A good whisky or brandy over at The Wren would grow hair on your face better than that stuff."

Rubbing his baby fine chin hair, d'Artagnan grimaced. Listening to the men snicker when he did so, d'Artagnan glared at them.

"In your case, pup," Athos drawled, blue eyes dancing, "it may take several brandies or whiskys."

Upon arriving at d'Artagnan's room, Treville heard the inseparables teasing his godson. At his entrance, it was to encounter the youth's extremely flushed face as d'Artagnan ducked his head in embarrassment. Not wanting to further add to the lad's misery over the lack of chin hair, Treville focused on one of the saviors of the day... _Zaru_. "I believe it's been mentioned before but Louis perhaps needs to add Capuchins to his regiment." He went on to tell d'Artagnan how Zaru treated their Spanish captives once his men put them in the wagons.

When a large yawn escaped d'Artagnan, the inseparables and the captain all exchanged looks. Silently they all agreed that the boy needed to rest, especially if there were to be a celebration later.

When Porthos helped Aramis gain his feet and Uncle Jean went to help, d'Artagnan was disappointed knowing they were going to leave. About to voice his objections, he caught sight of Athos shaking his head at him.

"You need to sleep. We'll see you later." Following the others out, Athos heard Zaru chattering softly to the boy.

++++

_Royal hall_

The celebration was in full swing. Everyone enjoyed good food and, of course, champagne. It was as d'Artagnan thought, no amount of persuasion from his maman changed Doctor Granville's attitude toward him having some wine. With dark eyes stabbing the physician in the back, d'Artagnan sipped his glass of lemon water. The sly glances he had been receiving from the inseparables nearly made him want to spit. But his attention was diverted when King Louis stood up clapping his hands for attention.

"This is the part I'm going to enjoy," King Louis crowed, signaling four young pages to approach the table. "Francoise and Alexandre please come forward." When they did so, he presented them with royal medals of bravery to the crown. He then proceeded doing the same to the inseparables. For they had all gone undercover, risking much.

Walking over to where d'Artagnan sat King Louis placed one of the medals around the boy's neck. Then he bowed before Zaru, who paid him no heed, as the Capuchin sat quietly on the lad's lap munching on a carrot. "I haven't forgotten your help in all of this, Zaru." Waiting for d'Artagnan to take the carrot away so King Louis could give the monkey a medal of honor too, he laughed because it turned out to be a tug of war. When d'Artagnan finally succeeded, King Louis managed to place the award over Zaru's head. Alas, it appeared that the medal held no interest for the Capuchin, as the monkey was more interested in getting his carrot back. Snapping his fingers, King Louis had an idea. "Are carrots Zaru's favorites?"

"Oui," d'Artagnan observed his pet happily eating and completely ignoring the king. "He loves them."

"Then I shall have a crate of them ready for Zaru upon your departure back to Lupiac." Upon saying that, King Louis grew sad. He hated to see his old friend Alexandre go back to his lands. Most of all he didn't want to lose d'Artagnan, who was turning out to be a most promising candidate for their regiment. Past reports from Alexandre, and even Treville when his old fox had come back from visiting his friends, told King Louis what an able young swordsman the boy was turning out to be. The lad and Zaru both had been invaluable in proving Delaflote's traitorous intentions. Plus there was the added benefit of having a Capuchin around the grounds. He still had thoughts of procuring one for himself and bedeviling Richelieu with his own monkey.

"My thanks, Your Majesty." Rubbing the top of Zaru's head, d'Artagnan whispered something to him. The monkey then stopped eating. Tipping his head up Zaru looked at the king, purring softly.

"What did that mean, d'Artagnan?" Whenever King Louis had found himself around Zaru, he had never heard the monkey make that sound before.

"Usually Capuchins only purr when greeting one another." Smiling at the young monarch's curiosity, d'Artagnan continued. "In this case I believe Zaru's thanking you for your gift of carrots."

Clapping his hands in delight, King Louis went over to his queen. "Did you hear that, Anne?"

"I did indeed," Anne's eyes sparkled. "It was very sweet." She was going to say more except bickering voices to Anne's right caught her attention.

"Are you saying that Francoise and I weren't much help today?" Ready to stick her hidden poignard in Athos' other shoulder, giving him matching injuries, Milady's eyes gleamed dangerously.

"Anne, you are twisting my words around." Exasperated with his ex, Athos drummed his fingers on the table. It was either that or wrap his hands around her lovely neck. When noting her smirk, Athos knew he was in trouble.

Winking at Francoise, Milady snapped her fingers in Athos' face. "Of course women don't work as hard as men," she snorted. "They get it right first time." When Francoise' laughter joined hers, both women couldn't stop for quite a time.

Pointing over to where his brother sat beside Milady, Aramis leaned in close to Porthos. "That is why I will never marry."

"Yeah," Porthos grunted. "It wasn't a pretty picture Athos painted of their union. That's for sure."

"Gentlemen," Athos looked at them both, having of course heard their remarks, "marriage is like a deck of cards." His blue eyes shifted to his larger brother. "Which of course you could relate too, Porthos. Especially at how much you lose." Slyly grinning at Anne's roll of eyes, Athos' lips tilted upward. "In the beginning all you need is two hearts and a diamond. By the end, you wish you had a club and a spade."

Sitting quite down a ways from where the inseparables sat, d'Artagnan wondered what all the guffaws were about. Shrugging his shoulders, he continued feeding another carrot to Zaru. "I guess I'll find out later what was so amusing," he whispered to his pet. Fingering his own medal, d'Artagnan dreamed of what it would mean to become a Musketeer.

++++

_Notes:_

Maryg e-mailed me about the trip to the zoo she took with her family recently. She sent me an adorable picture of one of the Capuchin monkeys that was there. Apparently they love carrots. Elenduen wanted me to know that as well. So in this chapter Zaru got his fav treat.

 _Quote: "Of course women don't work as hard as men. They get it right first time."_ \- Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "Marriage is like a deck of cards. In the beginning all you need is two hearts and a diamond. By the end, you wish you had a club and a spade."_ \- Aunty Acid (Personally, this is one of my fav lines by her)


	15. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, mes amis, this is the finale. But I may do a fun stand alone from Zaru's POV.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, late morning_

With their assignment finished the d'Artagnan's belongings were all packed up, ready to go. Having spoken earlier with Louis they found out that he wouldn’t be in need of their services for quite awhile, unless something major cropped up in-between time. Breathing a sigh of relief, they could now go back to being farmers once more. Of course Alexandre had a variety of other duties to perform. The people of his own lands had sadly missed his sound advice on matters of great import. Having read a letter earlier this morn that had arrived only yesterday from Monsieur Cailloux, one of Lupiac’s councilmen, they needed Alexandre’ guidance in regards to a border dispute with a neighboring town.

The problem now was that their son, nearing the age of eighteen years, had long been promised that upon Charles’ next natal day the boy would be allowed to join Louis’ Musketeers as a recruit. Still neither Francoise nor Alexandre could bear to part with their only child. But both acknowledged that they wouldn’t hold him back either. Then, of course, was the fact that Louis, Jean-Armand and the cardinal would never forgive them if they reneged on their promise.

“Perhaps tis best to leave Charles here instead of making him come home with us.” Lips trembling, Francoise waited for Alexandre to say something in regards to her suggestion. When he hadn’t uttered a sound, she glared at him. “You know his birthday is in a month.” Throwing both hands up in the air, Francoise huffed. “Tis ridiculous to have Charles turn around and make the journey back to Paris again afterwards!”

“Especially since Charles would be riding Zad back instead of a carriage like we had arrived in.” She was right, as usual, Alexandre thought. And there was another consideration to think upon. “I have a suggestion of my own, ma chere.” Pulling his wife close, he kissed the top of her head. “Why depart today? May as well stay until the boy’s birthday. This way we could all celebrate together. Then afterwards Charles would remain here when we depart for Lupiac.”

Squeezing Alexandre’s arm, Francoise kissed him on the cheek. “I always said you were an intelligent man.”

Amused, Alexandre gazed at her fondly. “I do not believe that is what you said to me when we exchanged vows.”

Swatting him lightly on the chest, Francoise sweetly pouted. “What did you expect? I didn’t even have a chance to buy a decent wedding gown.” Shaking a finger at him, she had more to say. “I got married in my street clothes.”

“Was it my fault we were being chased by mad men?” Chuckling, Alexandre remembered, as if it were only yesterday, the tiny church they had made a wild dash inside of to escape rogue agents that had been hot on their trail. They had slipped up somewhere along the way, which was most unusual for them. Their cover had been blown before managing to leave the vicinity, hence their need for a hasty escape. “You were still attractive to my eyes, mon coeur.”

“Oh, oui,” she snorted. “Mud on my dress and face with my hair all askew. _Attractive_ he says. Hmmmpf!” Tempted to hit him harder when Alexandre dared to grin, Francoise turned her back on him. “Your definition of the word differs greatly from mine.” The sarcastic edge to her tone was a warning for Alexandre to tread very carefully. “Still it was a quaint church.” Humming softly, Francoise’ own memories brought her back to the past. Upon their unexpected arrival in the church, they had startled the poor priest who had been at prayers. Then on the spur of the moment Alexandre had shocked her speechless by going down on one knee to propose.

Knowing the memories his words invoked, Alexandre could see a wide range of emotions crossing her beautiful features. “That ring had been burning a hole in my pocket for well over a month,” he shrugged. “Seemed like the right time to me.”

“I’d say your _timing_ was slightly off.” She really wasn’t annoyed but didn’t want Alexandre to know that. A woman had to have some secrets after all.

“Ah, but what a wedding night, eh?” Winking at her, Alexandre puffed out his chest.

“Alexandre!” She tried to shush him. “The walls have ears.”

“You worry too much, mon ange.”

“And you not nearly enough.” Tracing a path down the side of his face, Francoise let her finger linger on Alexandre’ lips. “At least I did get to wear a couture wedding gown at our second ceremony.”

“Our relatives and friends said they’d never forgive us if we didn’t repeat our vows again in our own church so all could attend.” Oh the outraged cries of disbelief from nearly everyone they knew, when Francoise told them they were married. Relatives descended upon them demanding another wedding and so they capitulated to the masses.

“Married twice in so short a time.” Winking at Alexandre, she went to unpack again. “To the same man too.”

“Tis a shame that Athos’ marriage was a sour affair.” Having listened to the Musketeer and Milady snap at each other, the words exchanged between the pair could have blistered your skin.

“I believe there is still something positive there.” Having observed the way Milady’s eyes followed Athos whenever he was in her vicinity, Francoise knew the other woman’s feelings weren’t always filled with hatred toward her ex-husband.

“Any man cuckold in such a manner would be a fool twice over to get involved again with the same woman.” Throwing his clothes back into the drawers, Alexandre' lips tightened fractionally. “Athos didn't strike me as anybody’s fool.”

“Alas, tis none of our affair, mon cher,” Hanging up her last dress, Francoise shut the huge closet. “They’re both grown adults and should at least be able to act civilly toward one another.” Taking his arm, she hugged Alexandre to her side. “Come now. Let us find Charles to deliver our good news.”

++++

_Main hall_

“What happened to all the flower arrangements?” Everywhere she looked, Queen Anne was stunned to see vases filled with nothing but barren stems. It was a most depressing sight to her eyes.

“They were freshly cut this morn, Your Majesty.” A frantic look passed from one maid to the next.

With d’Artagnan’s vision nearly back to normal, he had spent the past half hour searching for Zaru who had managed to pull off another one of his magical disappearing acts. Coming upon the queen just now, he couldn’t help but overhear her distress. Grimacing at the lack of floral display, that the royal hall usually was noted for, d’Artagnan realized right away who the culprit had been.

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” d’Artagnan bowed. “Tis my fault I fear. With my eyesight faulty I hadn’t been sleeping very well. Since its improvement I slept in later than usual only to discover Zaru was gone.” Doing a full circle d’Artagnan pulled another face, as he took in the lack of floral beauty. “My only excuse for Zaru’s behavior is that he was probably very hungry and went searching for something to eat.” Touching a barren stem, he bit his lips. “Hence the case of your missing flowers.”

“ _And leaves._ ” A pretty, petite maid retorted.

“Hush, Rochelle!” admonished Seraphine, one of the older maids.

Blushing crimson, d’Artagnan ducked his head. At the sound of the queen’s light laughter, his head snapped back up. "You are not mad?"

"I had no idea Zaru liked to eat flowers." Mischievously she teased the youngster. “Perhaps we should put a padlock on everything in the palace kitchen as well.” Upon noting a slight smile appear on the boy’s face, Queen Anne was pleased. "Though my main concern now is for my gardens.” Tilting her head at an angle, she studied d’Artagnan’s change of expression. “Are they safe from your Capuchin?”

"I'll make sure of it." At the same time d'Artagnan had encountered Queen Anne, he had also spotted his pet. Currently sliding up and down the banisters again, Zaru indulged in his favorite activity when at the palace. Though this time his Capuchin startled one of the footmen who was coming down the staircase, making the unfortunate soul nearly tumble down the rest of the way. Clapping his hands thrice in quick succession, d’Artagnan waited for Zaru to cease his antics.

Obeying the summons, Zaru jumped from the banister to dangle from one of several chandeliers decorating the royal hall. Impatiently waiting for the monkey to quit playing games, d’Artagnan was trying to hold back his temper. When it appeared that the Capuchin had other ideas as he was still swinging to and fro, d’Artagnan placed two fingers in his mouth whistling shrilly. That did get Zaru's attention as his pet finally swung himself over to neatly land on top of d'Artagnan's head.

"Monsieur monkey," shaking a finger at the creature, Rochelle was upset, "you have put us to extra work!"

"I told you to hush!" Seraphine hissed in the girl's ear.

"Tis fine, Seraphine." Nodding at the women, Queen Anne ran a finger over the top of Zaru's head. "I'll have the others cut and arrange more flowers. Both of you go about your other duties." After the women curtsied and left, Queen Anne turned to the young Gascon. "I shall miss you both very much after you've left us. The palace seems so alive when the two of you are in residence." Kissing the boy on the cheek, her eyes misted over. "Tis like having a younger sibling about." Surprisingly the Capuchin's tail swept out to gently brush against Queen Anne's face. "Oui," gently she tugged Zaru's tail, "I shall miss you getting underfoot of the cardinal even more."

"I don't want to leave yet," d'Artagnan blurted out. When his pet's furry tail curled around his neck again, it made his nose suddenly twitch. "Neither does Zaru but our mission here has been completed."

"Bien, at least we have you for a little longer as I believe that you're all staying for the Comte's execution." Never having had the stomach for them, Queen Anne always stayed in the palace unless it was absolutely necessary for her presence to be required.

"I have never witnessed one," he winced. "I'm not sure I want to see someone hang or lose their head."

"Louis chose to hang Delaflote for his actions against the crown." Taking his hand into her own, she led him towards the gardens. "It would please me very much if you would keep me company while my husband sees to the execution."

"I’d like that very much, Your Majesty." Fisting his hand then opening and closing it again, his fingers danced in the air, d’Artagnan made sure Zaru got the message.

"What did you tell him?" Marveling at the way the youngster communicated with the monkey, Queen Anne was quite curious.

"That your garden was definitely off limits."

Their joined laughter followed them out of the palace.

++++

The d'Artagnans were sidetracked in their intention to speak with their son. They had forgotten the time. Louis had caught up with them, taking both by the arm to usher them outside for Comte Delaflote's execution. Arriving at the Chatelet the couple stood on either side of Louis to observe the proceedings. The cardinal was also present as were the inseparables, walking wounded though the latter three were.

"Couldn't they have stayed in the infirmary, Jean-Armand?" His friend stood close beside Alexandre, which made it easier to whisper his query without Louis listening in.

"King Louis wanted them here as they too were involved in bringing down the Comte.” Not seeing his godson around, Jean-Armand raised a brow. "What of d'Artagnan?"

"Charles knows tis to be done but if he's not ready to witness such a thing as yet I certainly won't reprimand him for skipping this part."

"Once the lad's a Musketeer that would have to change." Eyes thoughtful as they rested upon Alexandre and Francoise, Jean-Armand worried if perhaps they were reconsidering letting d'Artagnan join the regiment. While pondering this, he noted King Louis was getting ready to speak. When the young monarch raised his hand to the crowd, silence reigned.

"It grieves me to execute any subject." Looking over to where the scaffold had been erected outside of the Chatelet, King Louis' eyes darkened with pain. "But to a man who pledged his loyalty to myself and to the people of France only to turn around and stab us in the back," he paused, eyes lingering on Delaflote's stiff form, "I found no other recourse but to set an example." The crowd began to stir again yet King Louis wasn't finished. "Comte! You have been sentenced to hang by your neck until dead! Any last remarks?"

" _I’LL MEET YOU IN HELL, LOUIS!_ "

Shocked gasps could be heard from the crowd at the Comte's audacity. Then again, those would be his last words on Earth. So who were any of them to deny Delaflote this final act of defiance?

Not one shred of emotion registered on King Louis' face at the Comte's words. Raising his hand high in the air he slowly dropped it. At this signal, the hangman commenced. King Louis' last memory of Delaflote would linger for some time to come.

++++

_Shortly after the execution_

On their way to find Charles once more, the d'Artagnans ran into Milady. Considering her part in their past assignment, she too had missed the execution which had greatly surprised them. After all Milady had established her cover weeks before the rest of their party had arrived at Comte Delaflote’s chateau.

Noting the way the couple had been staring at her, Milady automatically knew the reason for it. "If you've seen one execution," she shrugged one shoulder lightly, "you've seen them all."

"Speaking of _seeing_." Thinking perhaps Milady had per chance caught sight of her son in passing, Francoise figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. "Did you notice Charles anywhere about?”

"Mmmmm." Tapping her chin, Milady hummed softly. "Now that I think upon it I do believe I saw the queen taking him outside to the gardens."

"Our thanks." Dipping his head to the other woman, Alexandre took his wife's hand to lead her in that direction.

"Since all of you will be leaving shortly I'll wish you safe travels now." Smiling, Milady found herself actually going to miss the entire family. "In case I don't see you before your departure."

They then went on to fill Milady in on their decision to stay until Charles’ next birthday.

"Do go tell him quickly then," Milady implored. "Every single time I've encountered the boy lately he's been wearing a very long face. Since d'Artagnan's regained his sight I know tis not from that." When the couple left her, Milady thought at least someone should get their happy ending.

++++

_Royal gardens_

"Tis over then?" Sitting under a canopy in the middle of the gardens, Queen Anne watched the Gascon couple approach.

"The dismal business was finished with nearly half an hour ago." Sitting in an empty chair beside Charles, Francoise shuddered remembering the Comte’s body dangling from the noose. To take her mind off that ghastly scene, she amused herself by observing Zaru. The monkey wasn't paying the least attention to any of them, being so busy feeding his face.

Knowing that he might as well get it over with, d’Artagnan glanced at his maman with sorrowful eyes. "When do we leave for home?" Giving his Capuchin another carrot, d'Artagnan was curious over the exchange of looks shared between his parents. It was as if they were holding back a carefully guarded secret and weren’t sure about divulging the information. When d’Artagnan did receive his answer, it wasn’t the one expected.

"We've decided to postpone our trip back home until your natal day next month." Charles' open-mouthed astonishment hadn’t surprised Alexandre one bit. He more or less knew that he and Francoise were going to shock the boy.

"This way after the celebration you could stay here with your godfather and Louis like you've always wanted too, Charles," Francoise brightly added.

Stunned, expecting to go back to Lupiac today, d'Artagnan's mouth opened and closed with no sound emerging. Even Zaru stopped eating, sensing something momentous had happened. Glancing at the pleased features of the queen, d'Artagnan lifted Zaru from his lap and handed the monkey over to her care. Standing he went over to fiercely hug his parents. Taking turns with each, foreheads touching, d'Artagnan was beyond words. It appeared that his dream would be coming true after all.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

"You're all nice an 'appy taday, Captin'." Figuring it had to do with the hanging and all, Porthos had to agree. For him, watching Delaflote swing was a satisfying end to their mission. "I've never seen the captin' smile so much," he whispered to Athos.

Of course Treville heard Porthos' words to his lieutenant. "Couldn't it be that I'm smiling because finally you've all driven me insane?" Chuckling at his own quip, he could tell none of the inseparables bought it. He then went on to explain what Alexandre and Francoise had spoken to him about.

"Best news I've 'eard since we began this assignment." Grinning from ear to ear, Porthos slapped Aramis on the back. "Don't ya think so, Mis?"

"We then best prepare ourselves, mon freres" suggested Aramis. A sly smile graced his charming features. Noting the odd stares he received from both his brothers, he opened his arms wide. "We're not getting any younger and d'Artagnan is only going to be eighteen. Need I say more?"

"Aramis has the right of it." Eyes landing first on Treville, and then his two friends, Athos nodded his agreement. "The pup's going to make us feel our ages faster than any of us would like if we do not keep in practice." Frowning down at the sling Granville insisted Athos still wear, he sighed with displeasure. “After we’ve all managed to recover from our injuries that is.”

"Oy!" Porthos moaned. "Ya meanin' no more late nights?"

"And no more conning people at cards either, oui." Tilting his head to the side, Athos stared at Aramis. The latter was doing his best not to make eye contact with him. "No theology lessons for awhile either."

Pointing to himself, Aramis acted the innocent per usual. "Are you addressing moi?" Leaning on his wooden crutch, dark eyes holding deep secrets, Aramis winked at Porthos.

Snorting, Athos nodded his head. “If the shoe fits.”

A dramatic sigh escaped Aramis. "If needs must but that boy better be worth all our sacrifices." He made a show of complaining, just for the fun of it. Realizing upon their first meeting with d’Artagnan how much promise the young Gascon had shown, Aramis looked forward to tutoring the lad especially in marksmanship.

"D'Artagnan is going to surprise all of you," Treville announced, proud godfather that he was. "I predict that one day he will be the greatest of us all."

"Bold words, Captin'." With a wide grin splitting his face again Porthos leaned in closer to his commander. "Care to place a wager on it?"

"Porthos... Porthos," Treville chuckled. "You'll never change." Shoving the larger man away he focused on his lieutenant. Gazing intently into Athos' eyes, he silently communicated what he wanted from him.

"Understood, sir." Turning on his heels to leave, Athos had other duties to attend. Waving at his friends, he headed for the armory.

Scratching his head, Porthos was puzzled. "What was it that Athos understood?" With a look over at Aramis, he thought perhaps his friend knew the answer.

Correctly interpreting Porthos’ questioning gaze, Aramis shrugged. “I got nothing, mon ami.” So he, like his larger brother, waited for the captain to explain.

Not wanting to leave the other two men up in the air over his exchange with Athos, Treville quietly told them. "That he would stay sober for my godson." Having satisfied their unspoken question, he also departed.

"Think 'e could do it?" Ever since they had known Athos, the man drank like a fish. Porthos hoped, for the whelp's sake, that this all worked out.

"If anyone could I believe it would be Athos, mon ami." Clapping Porthos' arm with his free hand, Aramis pushed his brother forward. "He may slip from time to time but we could always dunk his head in a cold bucket of water." With his friend's shout of laughter turning heads their way, Aramis hobbled along toward the training grounds.

++++

Crossing the courtyard, Athos stopped dead upon Anne's approach.

"Bonjour, Athos."

"Anne." Dipping his head, Athos kept a close eye on where her hands were. He didn't trust the woman not to pull a weapon on him. Wary of the next words out of her mouth, he asked an obvious question. "What brings you to the Garrison?"

"I have business to conclude with Treville. Not that it's any concern of yours."

Ah! There's the Anne he had grown to hate over the years they had been parted, showing her true colors. "I am his lieutenant which makes me privy to all things going on within the Garrison as well as the Royal Palace.”

"Which doesn't make you God," she countered spitefully. He's even more Insufferable now than when they had been married. 

Lately all their past conversations left Athos with a headache. This would be another one to add to his collection.

"If you must know I'm collecting my payment for my part in Yvain's demise." Not knowing why she bothered explaining anything to Athos, Milady could have kicked herself.

"By all means then don't let me keep you." Blue eyes narrowed on her near perfect form.

"I won't!" she snapped. "Adieu."

Never was Athos going to let her have the last word. "You might have had me at hello," he smirked. "But you made my day when you said goodbye." Observing color suffuse her beautiful features, privately he was overjoyed at his parting shot. If Anne's face turned any redder she'd set herself ablaze. Feeling quite smug, Athos continued on his way to the armory.

++++

_Somewhere past noon - Captain Treville's office_

"'Ey, whelp!"

"Good to see you, Porthos." Accepting the welcoming slap on his back from the Musketeer, d'Artagnan tilted his head up to look at the other man. "I never realized how important those words were before."

"I know ya 'av ta take it easy with your sight just returnin'," with a quick wink at the captain, Porthos pulled the kid by the arm, "but Mis and I thought you'd might like ta watch some sparrin' goin' on." When d’Artagnan glanced at the Musketeer's wound, Porthos shook his head. “Our Garrison doctor Devereaux is nearly as bad as Granville.” Resigned to his fate he said, “‘E won’t let me do any combat trainin’ with the men. Even threatened to lock Athos up in the infirmary and throw away the key if ‘e even dared lift a sword with ‘is good arm.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what he told Aramis.” Sharing amused looks with his uncle, d’Artagnan raptly listened.

“Well Mis could probably still shoot ‘is pistols and muskets.” Scratching at his beard, Porthos thought more about it. “Thing is Mis is a might wobbly on that crutch which could hamper ‘is aim” he chuckled. “Then everyone would ‘ave ta look out and duck for cover.”

“If Serge ever got hit by a stray shot he’d make Aramis pay for it through the nose.” Snorting, Treville was amused picturing the retired Musketeer going after Aramis with a ladle in his hand.

"If I wouldn’t be too much of a bother I'd love to join you guys." Watching the monkey playing with a paperweight on Uncle Jean’s desk, d'Artagnan prayed Zaru would be careful not to drop it. But with the way his pet kept tossing it up and down, he didn't hold high hopes of that happening. Becoming even more nervous noting the anxious looks his uncle was giving Zaru, d’Artagnan clapped his hands together to gain the Capuchin's attention.

Bad idea as the sound startled Zaru, making his pet drop the paperweight anyway. Falling, with a heavy thud upon Uncle Jean’s varnished desk, it marked the wooden grain with a nice long scratch. The grimace covering his uncle’s face made d’Artagnan feel badly, knowing the older man was clearly upset. Quickly weaving an intricate pattern in the air with his long fingers it had the effect of making Zaru start chattering back at d'Artagnan. Holding out his arm the Capuchin immediately jumped on it climbing up onto d’Artagnan’s shoulder.

Leaning against the wall, Jean-Armand glowered at the Capuchin. “Last time my desk suffered it was Aramis who had dropped that paperweight," Treville remarked dryly. "Guess I’ll have to call upon Cherif’s talents to remove another mark.”

“Apologies, Uncle.” Tapping Zaru on the head, d’Artagnan whispered something to his pet. “I told him never to do that again.”

“And hell would freeze over before that happens.” Laughing now, Treville motioned for the boy to go with Porthos.

“Ready ta come with me, kid?”

With one last look over his shoulder at Uncle Jean, d’Artagnan followed the large Musketeer out of the office. “Feels like I’ve been _ready_ since forever.”

++++

_Garrison Courtyard_

“So this is where you’ve gone off too.” At least Charles was in good company. Sitting down upon the bench beside his son Alexandre dipped his head, acknowledging Porthos and Aramis who sat opposite them. With Charles’ eyes solely focused upon the sparring match currently going on, Alexandre thought about the day when the youngster eventually became one of Jean-Armand’s soldiers.

“Papa, do you think King Louis would grant my request to keep Zaru with me?” Taking his eyes off the two recruits dancing around one another, d'Artagnan noted his pet was engrossed in Aramis' chapeau that was innocently laying on the table. His Capuchin kept touching the feather on it that gently swayed in the air from the warm breeze. He was quietly amused when Aramis quickly snatched his chapeau from the table to place it back on his curly head. D'Artagnan couldn't blame Aramis for not taking any chances in case Zaru decided the chapeau would make a nice souvenir. Porthos of course thought the whole exchange hilarious, judging by the large Musketeer's boisterous laughter.

“Undoubtedly.” Slinging an arm across the lad’s shoulder, Alexandre’s eyes were merry. “I pity Richelieu though. He and Zaru may end up coming to blows.” Ruffling Charles' hair he added, “But on the brighter side of things, Zaru would have an endless supply of carrots.”

“And I would get my heart's desire as well." When his papa's eyes lit up with amusement, d'Artagnan didn't understand the reason for it. "Was it something I said?"

“I'm positive you would get your wish, Charles. But say if things were to ever go awry in that quarter you could always play at looking sweet and innocent," pinching the youngster's cheek, Alexandre smiled at the way his son pulled back from him, “and let Zaru handle all the swordwork.”

"That may turn out to be dangerous for us all." Joining them, Athos sat down on the other side of the young Gascon. Getting as comfortable as possible, on the hard wooden surface, he stretched out his legs.

"Actually Zaru's not bad with a poignard." Bumping shoulders with the older Musketeer, d'Artagnan felt Athos tug on his long hair.

"That is a scary proposition," Aramis offered, still keeping an eye on Zaru as the Capuchin was still salivating over Aramis' chapeau. "Better watch out, Porthos, you may have competition."

"I ain't dignifyin' that with an answer," Porthos grunted.

When d'Artagnan suddenly grew silent, it was Athos' turn to bump shoulders with the pup. "You are thinking too loudly."

"Just upon the day I'll begin my training." Having everyone's attention on him, d'Artagnan swallowed the huge lump building in his throat. "I promise not to let any of you down and work extra hard to earn that pauldron all of you proudly wear."

"I would expect nothing less from my _protégé_." Observing the boy's anxious expression go to one of wary disbelief, Athos folded his arms and waited for his words to sink in.

"Papa, is what Athos said true or is he simply teasing me?"

"Boy!" Athos barked. "I would never jest on something so important." Blue eyes then twinkling, Athos placed a gloved hand upon the lad's shoulder giving it a firm squeeze.

Jumping up, d'Artagnan started dancing around the bench in his excitement. " _WHOO HOO!_ " When finally he came back down to earth, d'Artagnan realized what a spectacle he had certainly made of himself. Concerned on what the lieutenant would be thinking, he stammered, "That was... ummmm... er well..."

"Son, no need to explain your joy at the news." Alexandre reassured him. "I believe Athos would take your reaction as a compliment." Noting the older Musketeer was hard pressed to contain his own amusement at Charles' performance, Alexandre thought that his son would indeed be a good fit for these inseparables.

"'Eh, whelp." Thumping his hand twice on the table to get the kid's attention, Porthos had something to say. "Wait 'til all of us are in fightin' shape again." Poking Aramis in the side, he snorted. "Then you'll know what it's like ta train as a Musketeer."

"What he said," Aramis agreed, still keeping a wary eye upon Zaru. The Capuchin still had his greedy eyes on Aramis' chapeau.

"Whatever my future holds..." d'Artagnan stuck his arm out, hand palm down, " _All for one_..." Three other booming voices then joined d'Artagnan's own.

" _And one for all!_ "

++++

_Epilogue_

So it was that many, many years down the road former soldiers, now too old to hold up a blade, would gather in the local tavern halls. Within the smokey atmosphere the men would drink their lagers and reminisce their days of glory gone by. There would always be someone in the crowd though who would love bringing up the subject all of them never grew tired of listening too. It always pertained to a certain Musketeer captain with a Capuchin monkey proudly sitting upon his shoulder. It turned out that Treville's words had proven true. The young boy, from Lupiac in Gascony, had been _the greatest of them all_.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "I'm smiling because finally you've all driven me insane!"_ \- Aunty Acid

 _Quote: "You might have had me at hello. But you made my day when you said goodbye."_ \- Aunty Acid.


End file.
